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LYRICS 



OTHER POEMS 



SFJ. DONALDSON, Ji: 






PHILADELPHIA: 
LINDSAY & B L A K I S T N 

isco. 



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f^lo^^ 



Eiiteied according to Act of Congress, in the year ISJO, liy 

S. J DOXALDSON, Jr., 

ill tlie Clerk's Office of tlie District Conrt of the Eastern District of 
IVnnsvIv'auia. 



HSNRr 3. ASIIMEAD, PHINTFH 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PAOB 

Eternity op Poesy, . . . .9 

Song — With a Bdmper of Burgundy, . . 15 

The Dance of the Stars, . . . .17 

Nature and the Soul, . . . . 19 

Sonnet — Ox the Harp, . . . .23 

An Invocation, ..... 24 

Sonnet — To Lili, . . . . .27 

Lines — An Analogy, .... 28 

Sonnets on the Final Judgment . . .30 

Song — "Where have the Mighty Fled?" . 33 

The Morning Hour, . . . . .35 

Sonnet — On the Return of a Fair Young Lady 

TO her Friends after a long Absence, . 38 

Youth and Age, . . . . .40 

Lines, ...... 45 

To The Wild Rose, . . . . .48 

vSonnet — On the Reasonableness op Death, . 50 

Sonnet — On Lndividuality, . . . .51 



VI INUKX. 

PAllK 

Lines, . . . . . . o2 

" Oh I WOULD I WERE A Rtak, Lovk !" . . 54 
Sonnet — On Friendship, . . . .5(5 

Song of the Fatks, . . . . .58 

Lines, ...... 60 

Lines to Miss J M. W., . . . .02 

Song,^ — "Time is Glidi.vg on," . . . 03 

To LiLi, . . . . . .01 

On Feeling, ..... 06 

Daphne and Strephon, . . . .08 

Theory of Creation, .... 70 

The Falling Star, . . . . .73 

To the Farmers, ..... 74 

To Amoret, . . . . . ' . 70 

Dialogue between the Poet a.mj hk-s Lyre, . 7!) 

Eternity, . . . . . .1)8 

On Feeling, . . . . .100 

The Universal Heart, .... 104 

Hymn to the Catholic Church, . . 100 

Sonnet on Chatterton, . . . .100 

Determination, . . . . . 110 

The Hermit, . . . . . .112 

Song — "Who Loves not to Gaze," . . 115 

Lines to Miss R. L. N., . . . .116 

Sonnet, . . . . . . -117 

Sonnet to Mrs. Fanny Kembi.e, . . .119 



INDEX. Vll 

PAQE 

Lines — " JIy Heart expanded like a Floweh," 120 

To Lii.i DURING her Absence, . . . 123 

Lines to Miss S. W., . . . . 127 

The Little Cloud, ..... 120 

Lines to Miss G. C, . . . . 134 

Sonnets to Constance, .... 136 

Lines in the Spirit of Universalism, . . 139 

"Fair Lili's Heart's the Tent of Love," . 142 

To Amoket, . . . . .143 

The Dead, . . . . . .145 

Lines composed after an Illness, . . 147 

Lines Dedicated to our House of Representatives, 150 
Lines to Miss N. S., . . . . . 154 

The Death-Bed, ... 156 

Nature's Voice, . . . . .158 

Ballad — "With Lily-white Hand," &c., . 165 

To the Exiles of Italy, . . . .168 

Lines on Unfortunate Lovk, . . . 170 

On Genius, . . . . . .173 

To Amoret, . . . , .175 

To Miriam, . . . . . .178 

To My Impulse, ..... 180 

Ambition, ...... 184 

Amelia — X Fragment, . . . . 186 

Spring — An Analogy, .... 204 

One's Own Day-Dream, . . . 206 



atm^. 



ETEKNITY OF POESY. 

They tell me blind Maeonides is dead ! 
That the sad Muses, bending o'er his bier, 
Draped with the withered hopes of fallen man, 
In sable garments chant the cycles sere ; 
Whilst pale-browed Nature mourns her wont- 
ed voice. 
So musically pensive in the past, 
Now hushed forever in one sepulchre. 
Has beauty failed ? Needs then the soul 

no tone, 
That, varying with the tumults of the breast, 

2 



10 POEMS. 

May speak for spirit in each changeful mood ; 
Whilst that a complex universe in forms 
Of innate loveliness, and joy, and life. 
May pass before it in a heart-review ? 
Who dares to say one heart can fathom love ? 
Or Being Absolute ! Or deathless thoughts. 
Which weave their fancies but in god-like souls, 
And, when once born, are clustered like the 

stars 
In the vast universe of mind expressed, 
There to attract — repulse — and pour mild 

rays 
Of intermingled radiance upon Hope, 
The child of Consolation and Desire ! 
Who— wandering in sweet rhapsodies of soul. 
Stealing unconsciously, like twilight dreams, 
Into a heart of innocence and peace — 
Oft gazes with devotion on those orbs, 
All negligently sprinkled as they are 



ETERNITY OF POESY. 11 

Throughout the iufiuite of Thought and God ; 
Then pines to add one voice unto that choir 
Of sister spheres and spirit-wanderers. 
Oh ! I had thought the human heart divine, 
And dreamt how waters of the spirit steal 
Thro' winding chasms, and thro' darksome 

glens 
From source as inexhaustible as God ; 
And I had dreamt of thoughts unutterable, 
And glorious visions which no tongue may 

tell; 
And I had dreamt how loveliest joys are 

veiled 
From the far piercing eye of prophecy, 
In the dim future of an untold age. 
When light shall circle Spirit as a crown, 
And e'en Maeonides shall be forgot. 
And tuneful Milton wake the groves no 

more. 



12 ^ POEMS. 

They tell me blind Maeonides is dead, 

And that great themes shall thrill the world 

no more ! 
Then must the heart be dead ! Lament the 

dead ! 
For in its beauty, and for depth of love, 
I had supposed it infinite as God ! 

Ah! Many souls, enchained, are bound to 

Earth 
Thro' beauty only, and the warm desire 
One day to view the universal heart 
Bloom like a flow^er ; that as leaf shields leaf 
From over moisture or too fierce a beam — 
When that a heavy dew may drip from 

heaven. 
Like distilled nectar from the feast of gods, 
Crowning the jeweled cups fair Earth up- 

rears 



ETERNITY OF POESY. 13 

To catch tlie shower; or the keen noonday 

rain 
Of amber-shafted light may pelt the buds, 
Reeling beneath the stroke in fainting 

dreams — 
So heart, close pressed to heart, may soon 

display 
The principles of union innate, where 
Naught save harsh discord e'er hath reigned 

'before ! 

I tell thee aspirations shall not die ! 

Tho' sympathy denied may waste the breast 

That longs for a full echo to its sighs. 

Yet, Nature, lost in utter loveliness, 

And reveling within excess of charms 

And power to please all such as come to 

her, 
Can never waft a longing to the past ! 



14 POEMS. 

The present fair; — Earth's future gleams with 

hope 
Of joys superior to mortal range, 
And thought extended to vast realms of mind, 
Unknown, undreamt of in the cycles dead. 



SONG. 15 



SONG. 

WITH A BUMPER OF BURGUNDY. 

Here's to the lady of my love! 
The brilliant phantasies divine, 
Which flow from mingled love and wine, 
Might angels move! 
ISTo seraph-lyre in languishing 
O'er azure fields, could ever bring 
The tenderness, 
Of sunny memories to the soul. 
Such as flash sparkling from the bowl, 
In hours like this. 

When every sigh is light, and every dream 
is bliss! 



Here's to the lady of my choice ! 
Each languid pulse in constancy, 



16 POEMS. 

Shall warm with love at music's sigh, 
And lend its voice ! 

Tho' forms of heavenly mould and brightness 
Blend winning grace with airy lightness 
To charm the eye, 

Whilst 'wildering labyrinthine streams, 
Whose spirit-waves enhance earth's dreams, 
Glide listless by. 

No angel-form may please, when Amoret is 
niffh ! 



THE DANCE OF THE STARS. 17 



THE DANCE OF THE STAKS. 

Have you never heard the voices of The 
Nidit ? 

O 

Come and hearken to them call 
To the gaudy train of stars, 
As they crowd unto the ball, 
In a band of serried light, 
At the bidding of the laughing Queen of 
Night ! 

Mark them tremble in their eagerness of 

heart ! 
While the lively pleasures throb, 
How their sandals twinkle, twinkle 
In the dance, unto the sob 
Of the wind, that plays the part 
Of the lute, the noisy viol, and the harj). 



18 POEMS. 

Like the echo of an everiasting thought, 
See them flash upon the eye, 
In that giddy whirl of glee ; 
Catch the music of that sisrh — 

o 

For the soul, of Nature taught, 
Should awake responsive anthems of the 
heart ! 

Thus the universe is solaced of its woe ; 

For heavenly tears are bright 

As the soft descending shower 

Ever glancing into light ; 

They glide, singing as they go. 

Like the laughter of the rivulets — their flow. 



NATURE AND THE SOUL. 19 



NATUEE AND THE SOUL. 

In the sunlight of the morning, 
Ere the shadow steals its slow step 
Froni the meads, and dewy valleys, 
To the boundaries of the mountain. 
And its deep-indented chasms ; 
When the twin lips of Aurora 
Breathe naught save immortal fragrance, 
Wafting life, and health, and freshness. 
O'er the flower-clad boughs and blossoms 
And the wild wind woos so wildly. 
And, in passing sighs and murmurs. 
Speaks with such true heart and feeling 
Of the wonders of Creation, 
That all ope their leaves to listen. 
As to faery tales of wonder ; 
Till, that lost in love and longing, 



20 POEMS. 

They would fain conceal their Ijlushes, 
Tho' they know not how to hide them ; 
When the light wells in the fountain, 
As it weaves its sparkling fancies 
'Neath the steadfast eye of heaven, 
As tho' born of earth and darkness ; 
Go thou — muse upon thy Being, 
Thrilled with deep, eternal yearnings 
Of the everlasting Spirit ; 
So that in the calm of nature. 
Thou may'st summon up before thee 
Bright and never dying raptures; 
Thoughts wdiich bow deep souls with yearn- 
ings, 
Everlasting heart-repinings 
That their thoughts are not revealed. 

They would paint them, and not speak them; 
They would roll full tides of vision 



NATURE AND THE SOUL. 21 

'Neath the approving gaze of Heaven, 
That the eye of all might see them ; 
They would weave enduring fancies 
Out of aery clouds of nothing, 
Like the castles of the sunset, 
Or the purple ridge of mountains. 
Or dissolving tints of rainbow, 
Or the waving groves and willows ; 
Thus their dreams would be revealed, 
Like the thoughts of the Eternal. 

Go thou — in the hush of Spirit, 
That the still small voice of Reason 
Deeply moving pure emotions 
Of a soul that is immortal. 
May like a clarion wake thee 
Unto great resolves and daring. 

Go thou ! — Burst the bands which bind us ; 
3 



22 POEMS. 

Mingle freely with the sunlight, 
Till thou lose thyself in Nature, 
And its dream-life be revealed 
To the eye and to the reason ; 
To the ear and to the feeling; 
That the darting spray and sunshine, 
And the gentle sigh of Evening, 
And the calm still joy at sunset. 
May be more unto the spirit 
Than mere signs and painted baubles- 
May from henceforth be — a feeling. 



SONNET. 23 

SONNET. 

IN THE UNA WAKENED MELODIES OF A HARP, 

What soothing symjDhonies of sound and soul 
Lie slumbering here, lulled in the lap of sleep ! 
Thus must they slumber, till a master sweep 
The echoing chords. Then in wild surges roll 
The thrilling raptures ; under soft control 
Of kingly art, we hear them laugh — or weep ; 
While to sweet rhapsodies of spirit, leap 
The trembling j)leasures, mingling sense with 

soul! 
Thus in the heart lie sleeping, lost in night, 
A mild variety of shifting dreams ; 
Each wayward thought, too fancifully bright. 
Thro' Nature's half-raised veil in softness 

gleams, 
Waiting in eagerness for reason's ray 
To pierce the clouds, and roll the mists away. 



24 POEMS. 



^ AN INVOCATION 

TO GENTLE THOUGHTS, THAT THEY MAY DWELL 
IN THE BREAST OF MISS M. P. 

Spirits fair, which intertwine, 

Dreams of being, far above 
Brilliant phantasies of wine — 
Milder strains than earthly love ; 
On you I call — 
Come one, come all ! 

Wafted on the spicy air. 

From the realms of dream-land, come ! 
Come in varied forms, and fair ; 

Malc:e her breast your constant home ; 
In numbers rise. 
Light up the skies ! 



AN INVOCATION. 

Well I know the liuinaii heart 
Can endure excess of light ; 
Tho' a dull and sullied part 
Of the chain of being bright. 
Haste ! raise the pall 
That darkens all ! 

Shadows drear have fallen o'er 

Human hopes and sympathies ; 
Hearts which ne'er knew grief before 
Now link hour to hour with sighs. 
Disperse the shade 
Despair has made ! 

Nothing nobler well might be, 

Than the sinner's heart renewed, 
Thro' the grace which makes us free, 
And the mild Redeemer's blood. 
Forgiveness bring 
From mercy's spring ! 

3* 



26 POEMS. 

Should our God full pardon give 

For offences foul and dark ; 
And in mercy bid us live 

Henceforth lives of heavenly mark ; 
Sweet strain for strain 
We'll lisp again ! 

All unpracticed in the art 

Of the melodies of heaven, 
"We will tune the grateful heart 
To the strain — " We are forgiven ! 
Glory to God, 
Salvation's Lord !" 

Haste to lift the cloud that veils 

Heaven's deep mysteries from the sight; 
Each pure spirit, joyful, hails 
Earth's redemption to the right. 
E'en in her fall, 
God's all in all ! 



SONNET. 27 



SONNET 



TO LILI. 



Most pure my love, tlio' it despised be ! 
As a sweet violet, at midnight born, 
Droops languisliingly ere the gentle dawn 
May smile upon it — such my love for thee ; 
Such the dim yearning of my heart for thee. 
E'en thou shalt feel for me whenjoy has gone, 
And the lithe spirit, of its beauty shorn 
Shall wildly revel 'midst satiety, 
No longer glancing heavenward with the eye 
Of prayerful utterance, for the lovelier thought 
Written upon thy brow; of its own sigh 
From the fair palaces of dreamland brought 
Heavily to Earth — in anguish there to die! 
Sorely heart-stricken, there to bleed and die ! 



28 POEMS. 



LINES 



As some dark water, struggling long with 
night — 
Pent deep within the bowels of the earth — 
Breaks thro' the trampled green, and wells 
to light, 
A choir of languor bubbling to the birth ; 
The first wild tumult of its dashings past, 

The softened cadence floating o'er the vale. 
In dying murmurs still is fain to last 

In the light echoes of the awakened dale ; 
So unto God, 
Th' Eternal Lord, 
The yearnings of the soul are known ; 
Each burning thought, 
From Nature caught, 
Is wafted upward towards his throne ! 



LINES. 29 

As the wild rosebud wantons with the aii% 
Then pines to find its sweetest fragrance 
shed, 
Till bent with anguish and oppressed with care, 

It droops to mingle ashes with the dead ; 
As one by one its leaves forsake their stem, 
Hope whispers ever, when drear death be 
past 
Their much loved fragrance may i:eturn to 
them, 
Tho' scattered on the pinions of the blast ; 
So with the heart 
That's forced to part 
With each dear rapture earth has given ; 
Tho' crushed it lies, 
And bleeding dies — 
It dies to seek new joy in heaven ! 



30 POEMS. 



TWO SONNETS 

ON THE FINAL JUDGMENT. 
I. 

Forth from their spirit-sleep, the sheeted 
dead 
Bestir for judgment at the angel-blast; 
That shrill alarum, ushering in a past 
Dark-lined with memories to bow each head 
In guilt's humiliation, strikes a dread 

To every heart. With some, such pang 

shall last 
Forever — from mild Jesus' presence cast — 
'Midst gnashing teeth, racked on tormenting 
bed. 
Deep-set — inflammable ; where scorching 
rocks 



TWO SONNETS. 3i 

Frame donjons huge ; rearing their horrent 
front 
One mass of flame, and formed of fiery 
blocks, 
Forced by machinery of howling winds 
Tji keep such shape as best lost souls confines 
In grounds thro' which heart- 'wildering ter- 
rors hunt. 

II. 

And ye, ye blessed, crowned with glory's 

wreath ; 
Now ye, rejoicing, hymn the Saviour's 

praise ; 
Earth's mild Eedeemer; great in all his 
ways! 
Man — whilst with man he dwelt — a God in 

death ! 
Immortal anthems languish on each breath, 



32 POEMS. 

Whilst spirit-wavelets rolled tliro' endless 

days, 
Chant low the limitless eternities ! 
The heavens, fair arched above, the depths 

beneath, 
Awake to ecstasy at that sweet sound, 

Soft issuing in a chain of linked sighs ; 
Light silvery murmurs from the spheres re- 
bound ; 
Each starry sentinel in slumber lies — 
Lulled by the flow of those heart-melodies — 
Or in its orbit reeling, whirls around. 



SONG. 33 



S N Ct . 

Wheee have the mighty fled ? — 

The lords of spirit, and the souls of song ! 

For it doth seem to me, 

That every godlike aspiration's dead ; 
Earth has been crushed too long; 

In vain, firm manacled, would Will be free ! 

Where have the mighty fled ? 

The wrinkled ages smile at us in scorn ; 
Each hag her distaff" plies. 
Seeming to say, " 'twere better to be dead. 

Or even not been born, 
Than that the soul should waste her power 
in sighs !" 

Where have the mighty fled ? 

Sad Earth disowns a race degenerate ! 
4 



34 roEMS. 

In sable garb and weeds, 
She mourns her offspring in her first-born 
dead. 
Time may his hanger sate, 
On such as ne'er enacted godhke deeds! 

Where have the mighty fled ? 

Their tuneful echoes cry from Earth to God, 
" It must and shall not be ! 
For souls redeemed have with anguish bled 

That we should hug the sod. 
Earth and her languages shall yet be free !" 

Where have the mighty fled ? 

Deep, deep inurned in the human heart, 
Their sainted memories pure, 
Tho' to the past indissolubly wed, 

Shall with each life-drop start, 
Since age but hallows them, and cries — "En- 
dure !" 



THE MORNING HOUR. 35 



THE MOENING HOUR. 



For in the morning hour I have gold in my mouth. 

Jean Paul Richter. 



When, from the dreams of night, 
Eyes ope to view the light 
Stream thro' the lattice bright 

Bathed in mild splendor ; 
Oh ! how the radiance soft 
Bursts on the spirit, oft 
Bearing the soul aloft 

Past life's surrender! 

Lost in the dreamy past, 
Pleasures that ne'er could last. 
Mist-like obscure and cast 
Shades o'er the reason. 
When thro' the realms of old 



36 POEMS. 

Wings the free lieart and bold, 
Life leaves the earthy mould 
Chilled for a season; 

Woven of subtle thought, 
Dream-forms of air are brought — 
Loved ones long vainly sought — 

To the pure vision ; 
Soon one mild image bright, 
Drinks in the amber light 
Cloud-like, and woos the sight 

To scenes Elysian ! 

Oh ! how a halo steals 

O'er the 'wrapt soul, and heals 

Wounds which the wan heart feels 

Wedded to anguish ! 
Mildly a spectre-hand, 
Waves to the shadow-land. 



THE MORNING HOUR. 37 

Where strains of spirit, grand, 
Soothingly languish ! 

But when the shadows steal 
Till crushed beneath the heel, 
Suddenly warm thoughts congeal, 

Light forms have vanished ! 
Dragged once again to earth 
Home-thoughts cling round the hearth; 
Dead to a nobler birth, 

Mild dreams are banished ! 



4* 



38 POEMS. 



SONNET. 

ON THE EETUEN OF A FAIE YOUNG LADY TO 
HER FRIENDS AFTER A LONG ABSENCE. 

AVe welcome thee as we would welcome Spring, 

Eosy awakener of the slumbering flowers ! 

Thee, Time obeys; the "lazy-pacing" hours 

Quickened of thy clear thought— the mellow 

ring 
Of thy soft laugh — flash swiftly on the wing, 
Besprinkled with the perfume and the 

showers 
Which, gentlest exercise of all thy powers 
With other joys, has never failed to bring! 
While absent, every heart has yearned for 
thee 
As for a charm, which once possessed, had 
fled; 



SONNET. 39 

But, tho' bereaved, yet it could not be 

That we should think of thee as of the 
dead; \ 

E'en in remembrance too much life was left 
For us to mourn sweet sense as so bereft. 



40 POEMS. 



YOUTH AND AGE. 

now AGE IS DEPENDENT UPON THE TRAINING 
WE RECEIVE IN YOUTH. 

Youth ! youth ! youth ! 

With a heart that leaps to life, 

Age! age! age! 

With a pulse that's ebbing fast ; 

Youth! youth! youth! 

When the spirit sounds to strife, 

Age! age! age! 

When our hopes and fears are past ! 

Youth! youth! youth! 

When its fervor warms each scene. 



YOUTH AND AGE, 41 

Age! age! age! 

"When the soul has lost its power; 

Youth! youth! youth! 

When each landscape's gay and green, 

Age! age! age! 

When darkness rules the hour ! 

Youth! youth! youth! 

When the heart throbs wild with love, 

Age! age! age! 

When fairy dreams are banished ; 

Youth! youth! youth! 
That forgets its God above, 

Age! age! age! 

When Earth's loved forms have vanished ! 



42 roEMS, 

Youth! youth! youth! 

With its sighs, its tears, its jjaiiis; 

Age ! age ! age ! 

With its cahii and peaceful hour; 

Youth! youth! youth! 

With its winds, and storms, and rains; 

Age! age! age! 

With its mild refreshing shower ! 

Youth! youth! youth! 
With a spirit wed to right, 

Age! age! age! 

With its victor-palms and glory ; 

Youth! youth! youth! 
That looks to God for light. 



YOUTH AND AGE. 48 

Age! age! age! 

Its crown, the head that's hoary ! 

Youth! youth! youth! 
With a hand to aid the jDOor, 

Age! age! age! 

"With a heart yet young and tender ; 

Youth! youth! youth! 

That with grace still strives for more ; 

Age! age! age! 

Longing for Life's surrender ! 

Death! death! death! 

With a hand so stiff and chill ; 

Death ! death ! death ! 

Of the sunken eye and low, — 



44 roEMs. 

Death! death! death! 
Thou art both joy and ill; 
Death ! death ! death ! 
Thou art both friend and foe ! 



LINES. 45 



LINES. 

More than disconsolate — 

Hated of her I love, 
Blackening looms my fate 

Where'er I move ! 

Music held mystic sway 

Long, long within my breast, 

Chasing pale care away, 
Whispering — " rest." 

Now that mild hope is fled, 
Stifling, a life-despair 

Hisses — " tho' joy be dead. 
Still is she fair!" 

Ne'er shall heart-longings wake 
Eapture as pure again — 



46 POEMS. 

Heart-thrills for her sweet sake 
Mingled with pain ! 

Robbed of my earnest youth, 
Fooled of my aim in life, 

Still has she left me Truth 
Ruling the strife ! 

Singly to her I cleave. 

Feeling that " God is Love;" 

Earth's fleeting joys I leave 
For bliss above ! 

Could I have sinned at all 
'Gainst beauty half so rare, 

Know that death's gloomy pall 
Soon hides despair ! 

Man, tho' he reach to age. 
Dies ere they bare the tomb— 



LINES. 47 

Life's Ibol — the white-haired sau;e — 
All seek their home : 

Life's joy is waked of death; 

Death is but change of form ; 
Mingling in one quick breath 

Either can harm ! 

Maiden, so learn to live, 

That when you come to die, 
No thought may anguish give, 

AVaking a sigh ! 



■iy rOEMS. 



TO THE WILD EOSE. 

Sweet flower so pure and white 

Thy life is fleeting fast, 
Each breath thou drawest breathe low, breathe 
light, 

For it may be thy last ! 

Apart from storms and !::trife, 

Protected from the gales. 
Thou shadowest forth my dream of life. 

Amid the scented vales ! 

Each velvet leafs a page 

Of dream-life unrevealed, 
From glowing youth to wrinkled age 

God's law thy lips hath sealedJ 



'J'U THE WILD ROSE. 40 

Perchance, were lano;uao;e mven 
To lisp dream-tliouglits to earth, 

The incense wafted up towards heaven 
Would hallow lowly birth ; 

For as I look on thee 

Still grows the thought divine, 
The lowly soul's humility 

Is shadowed forth in thine; 

And as thy dreams are known 

To spirits pure and fair ; 
So does the Lord our God, alone, 

Judge human hearts thro' prayer ' 



50 POEMS, 

SONNET. 

ON THE EEASONABLENESS OF DEATH, 

The soul of Music murmuring in a shell, 
Wearied of Ocean's roar, longs for the land; 
When rolled of kindly fortune to the strand, 
Borne lightly o'er the bosom of a swell, 
what sweet tremblings from its spirit well ! 
Heart's silent dreams to melodies expand 
With that new being : tones and feelings 
bland 
Gush with a rapture as thro' magic spell: 
For harmony, dependent upon change, 
Resembles man in Life's monotony. 
Pining until mild Death enlarge the range 

Of innate faculties and reason high ! 
The dread of dissolution seems most strange 
In souls immortal, wed to harmony! 



SONNET. 51 



SONNET. 

LAW OF INDIVIDUALITY AS EMBODIED IN THE 
PHILOSOPHY OF SCHELLING. 

FoEEVEE. and forever roaming free 

The infinite of Being, there shall fall — 
As heretofore to numbers musical — 

A power enshrouding mind thro' law-decree 

In forms of less or greater brilliancy ! 

Thus Light wells as from a spring original, 
Weaving its gauzy net-work over all 

The broad expanse of Nature's wavy sea ! 

But as those splendors die and fade away 
In graduated links of beauty's chain, 
The glories paling ne'er return again. 

Nor those enwoven there forever stay ! 

The gloomy shroud is stern necessity — 

The rosy smile, mild Being's passing ray ! 



52 roEMS. 



LINES 



Oh ! who can paint tlie burning clieek 
When sorrow, mingling with despair, 

May find no deeper tone to speak. 
Its anguish to tlie air ! 

Tlie glow of love and shame, diffused 
O'er many a pale and careworn brow. 

Betokens how a heart abused 
Still cherishes its vow ! 

What tho' the pensive ear of Night 
In silence drank those thrills of love, 

AVhich were to last whilst circlets bright 
Should weave the dance above ; 

The soul that thirsts ibr haj)pine6S 
Is oft misguided in the way, 



LINES. ■ 06 

And dreameth not that deep distress 
Shall crown the close of day ! 

Then steel the heart to passion's call ; 

Ah ! let not Love's delusive voice 
Cast over youth's fair dream, the pall 

Of a misguided choice ! 



54: roEMs. 



"Oh! were I a star," he sang within his heart, "I 
•would shine upon thee ; were I a rose, I would blossom 
for thee; were I a sound, I would press into thy ear and 
thy heart ; were I love, the happiest love, I would dwell 
therein. Ah ! were I only a dream, I would visit thee 
in slumber, and be the star, and the rose, and love itself, 
and vanish only when you awoke!" — Jean Paul liichler. 

Oh ! would I were a star, love, 

That I might pour o'er thee 
Soft trembling lines of silvery light, 
Which, sliding down their pathway bright, 

Might turn thy glance to me ! 

Oh ! would I were a rose, love, 

To paint my leaves for thee ; 
Mild pencillings of melting views 
In changeful rainbow-tints and hues 

Should warm thine heart for me ! 



rOEMS. oo 

Oh ! would I were thy heart's love, 

I'd thrill the purest breast, 
That ever waked a balmy sigh — 
When none save God and heaven were nigh — 

Or hushed its snows to rest ! 

But were I but a dream, love, 

I'd wing my way to thee; 
Thro' all the realms of Nature sought, 
The star, the rose, the secret thought. 

Should nightly blend o'er thee ! 



56 



POEMS. 



SONNET 



ON FRIENDSHIP. 



Love, admiration, friendship, are not bought ! 
Unlike the sordid gems exhumed from 

Earth, 
These flash their sparkles at the lowly 
hearth. 
Whilst kings have mourned to view their 

rays depart. 
Compared to Friendship's recreating power 
How vain, the rapturous thrills of eager 

sense ! 
How kindlv, praise and love's sweet in- 
fluence 
Encircle with new charms life's fleeting hour, 
Till heart, impassioned, wills each joy to stay ! 



SONNET. 0/ 

These, like swift gleams of lightning, may 
not last ; 
Winged of the sudden thought and laughing 
eye— 
A joyous train — they seek a smiling past, 
Fair ushering into everlasting day 
A mind imbued with love's eternity ! 



58 POEMS. 



SONG OF THE FATES. 

Twine, sisters, twine — 

Sisters three, 

Fatal three — 

Threads of human destiny ! 

This for the living, 

That for the dead ; 

Weave in a strand of memories fled ; 

Twist them together to form one thread, 

Till the cord becomes a chain — 

Galling chain — 

Coiling round, and round, and round, 

Heart and mind, till each is hound, 

And the living wish they were the dead ! 



Twine, sisters, twine- 
Sisters three, 



SONG OF THE FATES. 59 

Fatal three — 

Threads of mortal destiny ! 

Here's for the living, 

Here's for the dead, 

Weave in a strand of hopes unfed ; 

Twist them together to form one thread, 

Till that life becomes a misery — 

A sigh — 

AVelling up, and up again, 

From the heart-spring to the brain, 

Till the living wish that they could die ! 



60 POEMS. 



LINES. 

Why do I mourn ? No soul is near ; 
Earth lends no sympatlietic ear 

To drink the strain ! , 

The boundless fields of buoyant air ; 
The wide expanse of forests drear, 

But mock my pain ! 

Once 'twas not thus! No lark so gay 
When morning blushed, or closed the day 

His tranquil eye ; 
Then dreams came quick as moments fled , 
But lay these memories with the dead — 

I too would die ! 

From earthly joys — from charms of sense — 
An all discerning Providence 
Would wean my mind : 



LINES. 61 

Wliy mourn we thus for what is not ? 
The past, when past, should be forgot, 
Or reason bHnd ! 

Is there a witchery in the strain 

Sad memory wakes, tho' borne with pain 

And silent tears ? 
Who would resign one memory, 
Sad tho' it be, for pleasure's lie 

Thro' manhood's years? 

Nature shall be the solacer 
Of myriad woes ; unnatural fear 

Of what may be, 
A'anquished, shall wander far away ; 
Nature alone shall be the stay 

Of age for me ! 



POEMS. 



LINES TO MISS J. M. W. 

Say, would'st tliou have my spirit wear 
A chain both sore and hard to bear ? 
Show me a maid with light brown hair ! 

A chain of sighs, whose links are tears, 

Fast riveted of hopes and fears. 

And thonghts which bow a soul for years ! 

But, should she add a hazel eye 
That liquid melts, tho' none be nigh— ^ 
My heart is thrilled with ecstasy ! 

And, should the chiseled lip be there, 
Which, statue-like, breathes one rapt prayer ; 
Immortals ! say ! — what is so fair ? 



SONG. 63 



SONG. 
Time is gliding on, 
Like a river — like a river ; 
The moments that have flown, 
Have flown forever — ever ! 
No wave may backward roll 
AVith the deep impulse of soul ; 
The seed each heart has sown, 
Are sown forever — ever ! 

Life is winding on, 
Like a river — like a river ; 
Each winged thought once flown. 
Has flown forever — ever ! 
We may ne'er recall the past, 
Or make the present last ; 
The deeds each soul has done, 
Are done forever — ever ! 



(54 POEMS. 



TO LILI. 

When I gaze upon thy brow, Lili, 
And see tlie artless smile 
Illume thy face 
Of matchless grace, 
Which seems to know no guile; 
I ask with tearful eye, Lili, 
Could man but view thee now, 
Who 'neatli the sun 
Could picture one 
So bright, so true as thou, Lili ; 
So bright, so true as thou. 

When I gaze upon thy brow, Lili, 
And note the artful smile 
Steal o'er thy face, 
Of faultless grace. 



TO LILI. Go 

O'ersliaclowing it the while ; 
I ask with saddening tone, Lili, 
Could man but know thee now, 
Who 'neath the sun 
Could image one, 
So light, so false as thou, Lili ; 
So light, so false as thou. 



66 POEMS. 



LINES UPON FEELING. 

I KNOW not what my heart would pay, 
Yet shall my impulse have its way ; 
Pure feeling should be unconfined, 
And freed from trammels of the mind. 

Reason may echo proljlems brought 
From her own realms of tanerled thought: 
But feeling never yet has found 
An instrument her depths to sound. 

What feeling is, and how it moves ' 
The spirit that pure spirit loves, 
Must ever rest as unrevealed, 
As kindred truths to reason sealed. 

The life within us hides its form 
From frequent gaze; no curious charm 



LINES UPON FEELING, 67 

Can pierce that veil which dazzles sight, 
Or drag its glories to the light. 

But when the favorite hour has come 
In spirit ecstasy to roam 
Forth thro' great Nature's wide domain — 
Reason may call, and call in vain. 

Feeling, her own and truest guide 
To pure expression, will deride 
Such feeble shackles as would bind 

The loftiest soarings of the mind. 

« 
When feeling holds her faery court 
Imagination wings each thought; 
When intuition claims her sway, 
E'en reason stoops, and must obey. 



68 POEMS. 



DAPHNE AND STREPHON. 

Fair Daphne's linked in friendship's chain, 

But Strephon sighs for love; 
Tho' oft he breathes the amorous strain 

No prayer that heart can move. 

One dewy morn, when all alone, 
Not dreaming Daphne's nigh; 

He thus begins his fate to moan. 
And waken sigh by sigh : 

"Ah, Daphne! cruel maid!" he cries, 
" Why wound a constant breast; 

Wilt still reject tumultuous sighs. 
And wrong a flame confessed ? 

As oft as I with burning cheek 
Would breath love's warm desires, 



DAPHNE AND STREPHON. 69 

Thy rosy lips of friendship speak, 
And wake the smouldering fires. 

But now, since tears may ne'er avail 

To ease the careworn heart, 
The lightest craft that hoistens sail 

Shall me and Daphne part." 

"Ah, silly swain!" a soft voice cries, 
" How long must Nature prove 

That when a handsome gallant sighs, 
Maids mean by friendship — love!" 



70 POEMS. 



THEORY OF CREATION. 

What time Almighty will indued witli form 
The crude and ill digested elements, 
(Which heretofore, thro' endless ages past, 
Strove to combine in numbers musical,) 
^Ether, fair Nature's prime material. 
Was moved to hear his voice. Thence light 

was born — 
Bright tension of the one original — 
And Time first throbbed his seconds to the 

glance 
Of myriad and well directed spears 
Hurled thro' thick darkness — tilting at the 

void 
Which rolled before them moulded to a sphere 
Impenetrable; shrouded from the rays 
Grlancing in colors from the upturned shield 



THEORY OF CREATION. 71 

Which guards the heart of envious Nothing- 
ness. 
Thus first the glories of Eternal Mind 
Were wove in language, which, to speak direct 
To every heart that loves the beautiful, 
Was syllabled from alphabet of stars, 
That all might read who chose. But he who 

would 
Falsely traduce this language of the soul, 
By interlining truth with falsity 
On Nature's manuscript, must inly pine 
God's work's so far removed; feeling heart- 
pain 
That others, innocent of malicious schemes. 
Will read with joy the thoughts imprinted 

there ; . 
Existence of a God immutable. 
Whose pleasure, character, and name, is 
Love ; 



72 POEMS. 

Whose life is circled of one principle — 

The power of being loved by those He loves ; 

Whilst Reason acts thro' high creative Will 

Able to mould all being to all forms, 

With Wisdom's self to guide thatWill aright. 



THE FALLING STAR, 73 

THE FALLING STAR. 

'TwAS eve — a summer's eve — and starlight 

reigned ; 
Biit my fond heart throbbed to a higher key 
Than that of Nature in its loveliest strain — 
For at my side shown Beauty idolized ! 
A lady of the mildest grace and form, 
Walked arm-in-arm with me, whose love-lit 

eyes 
Streamed thro' the night, and bade the dark- 
ness flee. 
So soft their radiance, that the stars looked 

down, 
Longing to catch sweet Music's deeper soul ; 
One, stooping too near earth, in eagerness 
Of love's unutterable ecstasy, 
Encroached upon the orbits of her eyes, 
When, lost in brilliancy, it sank to night ! 



74 POEMS. 



ADDEESS 

TO THE FARMERS, WHO, PRAYING FOR RAIN, 
WERE ANSWERED BY A THUNDER GUST, 
WHICH WORKED THEM AN INJURY. 

Ye have your wish, ye men of wheat. 

Lean horses, pigs, and cattle; 
The winds of heaven in conflict meet. 

Ranged valiantly to battle. 

For three long weeks in sunny June 
Ye wrung your hands in anguish. 

Beseeching God to send rain soon. 
Lest corn and plenty languish. 

Now that the muffled skies are black. 
And spirit-drums yield thunder, 



ADDRESS. 75 

Whilst lightnings stretch the eye on rack, 
Ye own too late your blunder. 

Your corn is beaten to the plain, 

Stark crazed with fright your cattle ; 

God's whirlwind champions ride amain 
So valiantly to battle. 

But while ye mourn, the deep-souled sky 
Behind the dark clouds laughing. 

Shall celebrate Eternity — 
Immortal sunlight quaffing ; 

Soon Earth's warm smile shall greet the eye — 
The threatening storm-clouds sever; 

The rainbow-arch of victory 
Hangs over earth forever. 



76 POEMS. 



TO AMOEET, 

UPON THE MARRIAGE OF HER SISTER. 

One smiling eve, slow step I turned 
To where the Santee flows ; 
The dewy valleys clothed in green, 
Lay glistening with silver sheen. 
For in the blue the planets burned 
As Cynthia fair arose ! 

When, lo ! just near I chanced to spy 
A sweet-brier blooming fair; 
Each opening bud with promise smiled. 
Whilst those full blown, in radiance mild, 
As tho' to tempt a passer-by, 
Swayed gracefully in air. 



TO AMORET. 77 

Siicli beauty waked tlie warm desire 
To win one to my hand ; 
Witli critic glance I gazed on all; 
When, lo ! I heard a footstep fall 
That warned me in swift haste retire, 
And at a distance stand. 

A handsome stranger won his way 

Straight to the fragrant tree; 

My heart beat loud with anxious fear 

Lest that fair glory disappear — 

Plucked hastily and borne away — 

Which won my heart and me. 

But, ah! so various is the taste 

That reigns o'er mortals' choice; 
His sleeve but dashed the roseate dew, 
In reaching for a flower, which grew 



78 POEMS. 

In beauty near, so pure and chaste 
It bade the eye rejoice. 

Thus, Amoret, I feared thy grace 
Might win a wooer's eye; 
But he o'erlooked thy beauteous birth. 
And stooping nearer to the earth, 
Became enamored of a face 

That beamed in radiance nigh. 



DIALOGUE. 



DIALOGUE BETWEEN A POET AND 
HIS LYRE. 

I. 

When first I raised tlie trembling lyre 

And swept with transient touch the strings, 
To wake the lay of soft desire 

Or soothe the sigh that sorrow brings, 
Faint Echo caught the lingering strain ; 

Ere yet its tremblings died away, 
The soft vibrations breathed a name 

That woke anew the slumbering lay ; — 
'Twas thy name, Mary. 

II. 

And still its tremblings answered low 
Pv,esponsive to the name it waked. 



80 POEMS. 

And moved all to music's ebb and flow, 
Flooding both hill and dale, green sward 
and woodland lake; 

Whilst ofttimes it a sinuous course would take 

Thro' caverned rocks, and briary-brambled 
brake 

Which gave back sigh for sigh, and throe for 
throe ; 

Whilom all nature gushed with one heart- 
melody. 

III. 

Cease ! cease thy murmuring ! 

Or would'st thou break my heart ? 

Canst not impart 

Some other whisper to the distant hills ? 

Nay ! Grreece with all her rills 

Could never echo half so sweet a strain ! 

Then sigh again ! 



DIALOGUE. 81 

IV. 

What would'st tliou have me sigh ? 

That joy must die ! 

That all the loved and beautiful of earth ; 

That white-robed purity and worth ; 

That great thoughts teeming to their birth, 

Are as the incense on the air — 

A moment here — a moment there, 

Or as " the wind that idly passeth by?" 

V. 
Nay, stay thy hand ! That well known theme's 

too sad, 

And one brought nearer to the heart of man 

By the slow lapse of silent centuries ! 

It courses, fiery-pulsed, along his veins. 

With every beat which times life's destiny ! 

Each second views the burning flood glide on 

In eddying circles toward the source of life ; — 



82 POEMS. 

With noiseless flow, pouring its fire-lapped 

waves 
Around the anguished heart, which, half 

subdued, 
Fainting 'neath excess of ceaseless wavering 
'Twixt hope and fear, ever is ill at ease, 
Until with power adverse it pours it back 
To ebb forever in a reckless whirl 
Along the parched and dried up arteries, 
Flooding each separate organ linked to 

thought : 
Nay, sing not that ! 

Each soul's its own musician for that strain; 
'Tis the silent music of man's being — 
Sad as his destiny ! 

VI. 

Then I will sing 
Of the daedal Earth 



DIALOGUE. 

And the dancing stars ; 
The workl shall ring 
With the Titan's birth 
And the deeds of Mars ! 



The glittering helm, 
The quivering spear 
And thrice bound shield; '^ 
Dark Pluto's realm, 
With pale-faced Fear, 
And hearts that yield ! 

I will smg of a spring, 
And the 'wilderiug maze 
Of its winding stream ; 
How the Ijlue bells ring 
When their heads they raise 
'Neath the moon's soft beam 



83 



84 POEMS. 

How the light elves swing 
On the bending blade 
As it sways to the breeze ; 
And their wee songs ring 
Thro' the gladsome glade 
As they loll at ease ! 

They are borne to the sky- 
To the infinite blue 
And its arched dome; 
As they ride on high, 
They are lost to view 
In the spirit's home ! 

The fire-fly now 
Suggesteth a song 
As it wingeth the air ; 
With its radiant glow, 
As it wendeth along. 
And its meteor-glare ! 



DIALOGUE. 85 

As it wanders afar, 
It is lost to the sight 
In the measureless dark; 
Like a full orbed star 
It sprinkles the light 
Of its lumitious spark I 

VII. 

Why wilt thou grieve a heart forsworn ? 

Already now the hour has past 
When melodies like thine may last ; 
Thy softest lay 's received with scorn. 

The wildest music Earth has given — 
The most irregular and sweet — 
Wherein the thought and action meet, 

Were echoing symphonies of heaven. 

Then prythee, pipe a simple lay, 
Nor from the laws of metre stray ; 

8* 



86 roEMS. 

The loveliest thought — the wildest throe ; 
The brightest joy — the deepest woe, 
Will never once excuse the line 
That breathes of sympathies divine ! 

VIII. 
What ! would'st thou bind the freedom of my 

verse ? 
By what old statute w^ouldest thou coerce ? 
Didst ever hear the thunder's distant roar, 
Or the wild surges by the lone sea-shore ? 
Didst ever view the lights and shadows play 
Upon the sleep)ing hills, and flee away 
With lightning speed, until they cease to 

roam, 
Vanquished and lost within the evening's 

gloom ? 
Then tell me in what ratio they move. 
That I may learn of them to sing of love ! 



DIALOGUE. Ol 

Each globe of night is tremulously hung 
Self-poised in vacancy, and boundless space 
Alone confines the ardor of the race, 
As ray leads ray to mingle in the chase 
To nothing tending, and from nothing sprung ! 

'Tis eve, and stillness reigns supreme ! 

Each wave of air speaks whisperingly low, 

Lulling the spirit in its dream 

Of voiceless happiness or saddening woe ! 

All pulseless is the heart; the noiseless flow 

Of the pure Reason's limpid stream 

Scarce wakes the burden of the outbreathed 

sigh ; 
The groves wherein the breezes lie. 
Guarded of close-lipped Silence, anxious seem 
To murmur Nature's holy lullaby : 

IX. 

The winds awake, 

The streamlets dance; • 



POEMS. 

Grove nods to grove 

From its dreamy trance 
And wliispers, ''love!" 

The ruffled lake 

Inclines the ray ; 
From swell to swell 

The murmurs play, 
And whisper, " well !" 

The joyous birds 

Now swarm the moor; 
A sweeter note 

Than e'er before 
Now swells the throat. 

The lark pours forth 
Her evening lay ; 

Like morning frost 
It melts away, 

Forever lost ! 



DIALOGUE. 

Each tiling of life 's 

A happy wight; 
Each supple wing 

Is bathed with light 
Evanishing ! 

The free wind bends 

The scalloped boat ; 
Beneath the gale 

Two shadows float 
With well trimmed sail ! 

X. 

If thou would 'st only ease my soul 
Of all that burns within it, 

I'd praise thee with my latest breath ;- 
Canst do it ? Pray begin it. 

Tell her — the maiden of my dreams — 
My heart still loves her dearly, 



89 



90 POEMS. 

That every glance and every sigh 
Betokens how sincerely. 

Tell her, I love her with a soul 

That feels it is a duty 
To bend in reverence and awe 

Before the shrine of beauty; 

That shame and scorn can never change 
The pure and constant spirit; 

'Tis lost within the beautiful — 
'Twas formed to worship merit ! 

Oh ! constancy 's its own reward 
E'en tho' it may be slighted, 

The flower it rears, the blossom love — ■ 
Where didst thou find it blighted ? 

A gleam of hope expands its leaves, 
Tho' nipped within the hour, 



DIALOGUE. 91 

Another and a lovelier bloom 
Bursts forth to prove its power ! 

The more you bend the fragrant tree 

The purer perfume sheds it, 
Mild incense, mist-like, floats around, 

The air of heaven weds it ! 

XI. 

Canst sing of love ? — undying love ? 

Canst paint a calm still yearning ? 
Canst whisper of the fiery tide 
Within the spirit burning ? 

Canst murmur how 

I breathed a vow 
To grace one shrine forever ? 

Winged Time shall prove 

A spirit-love 
No earthly tie may sever ! 



92 POEMS. 

I'll do my best; 

At tliy behest 
I'll paint the constant spirit; 

I'll prove that love 

Soars far above 
High talent, mind, or merit ! 

Then pray begin, — 
Thy guerdon win, — 

Eternal fame elate thee; 
The Graces stand 
With wreaths in hand. 

May bright success await thee ! 

Then be all ear; 

Thou need'st not fear, 
My spirit drinks each murmur ; 

List to a strain to ease thy pain 
Then — cling to love the firmer ! 



DIALOGUE. 93 

XII. 

I love a maid — I love but ane; 

She recks na of my love na me, 
She binds me wi' a triple chain 

Whilst Joy sits laughing in her e'e ! 

Of faultless air, of matchless grace, 
She wiles my listless heart away 

Each passing glory of her face 
Outrivals morn's serenest ray ! 

I love a maid — I love but ane; 

Soft music breathes from every feature, 
Yet, whilst she gies all others pain 

God ne'er could mould a lovelier creature: 

The sunny glance — the 'witching smile — 

The starlight tangled in her tresses 
Which ever and anon the while 
■ Fall o'er her neck in soft caresses ; 

9 



94 POEMS. 

The snowy arm, its beauties bare, 
Beguiles my soul of all its leisure ; 

The floating meteor of her hair 

Has robbed my heart of every pleasure ! 

And whilst I sigh, and whilst I gaze. 
My burning spirit 's hushed in sadness, 

Lost far within the 'wildering maze 

Of deepening woe, and maniac gladness ! 

I love a maid — I love but ane; 

When God first breathed soft music o'er her 
The flowers entranced of the strain 

With glowing bosoms bowed before her ! 

The wildino; rose — her incense shed — 
Grew faint beneath excess of pleasure ; 

The poppy reared its dreamy head ; 

The violet breathed its choicest treasure ; 



DIALOGUE. 95 

The blue bell tolled its fairy note — 

Tho' of its music ever chary, 
The woodlark warbled from her throat — 

The dream of love — the name of Mary ! 

Ah, me! my heart! Thou, too, bewrayed 
Wert captured when all unwary, 

The trembling note soft Nature made 

Breathed thro' thy chords the name of 
Mary! 

The whisperings die — the accents faint — 
Yet still the rapture burns within me. 

Whilst heart-throbs wed the voiceless plaint, 
Nae other murmur e'er shall win me ! 

Still will I love, and love but ane, 
Tho' naething save despair abide me, 

Tho' madness seize upon the brain, 
And all who know me may deride me ! 



96 POEMS. 

Still will I love, and love but ane, 

The' every freeborn tliouglit forsake me, 

And Fever witli his gliastly train 
Of tort'ring phantasies, o'ertako me ! 

And when these lips are paled in death, 
Soft harmonies shall float between them — 

The echoings of their former breath — 
Nae other strain shall e'er demean them ! 

The soul enraptured of that strain 
Around those lips shall restless hover, 

Nae mair compressed with maddening pain 
But breathing of the constant lover ! 

And when laid low within the toml), 
That voice shall wake the silent dust, 

Earth's loathsome vault, and som!)re gloom, 
Shall hold in vain the breatliino; Itust! 



DIALOGUE. 97 

The heart shall beat its measured stroke ; 

Love's calm pulsations thrill the breast; 
Till Death's stern power, forever broke, 

Leave conquering spirit to its rest ! 



98 POEMS. 



ETERNITY. 

Lost in a vision, I beheld, and lo ! 

An ocean — shoreless as the realms of night — 

Toward which, as to a home, each restless 

wave 
Points it froth-cap : — as tho' rest could be 

found 
For that to which God whispers, " flow for- 
ever !" 
No ebb was there — no tide ; no beach whereon 
To spread the dazzling white cloth of its foam ; 
For evermore, shoreless, surge strives with 

surge 
To win a path straight forward to the goal 
That still recedes before the combatants, 
Enshrouded in the black pall of a night 
Which knows no moon, nor solitary star 



ETERNITY. 99 

To unveil darkness in her drear retreat! 
And then, oh, man ! poor earthworm ! reck- 
less fool! 
I saw thee point the decorated prow 
Wreathed with the painted baubles of the 

earth. 
Toward that wild chaos of unending night. 
As tho' ensured from shipwreck'd woe, and 

harm, 
And life were but the plaything of the hour — 
An evening sail upon an inland stream ! 



100 POEMS. 



LINES ON FEELING. 

When the golden tide of feeling 

Softly lulls the soul to rest, 
A truer phase revealing 

Of the world within the breast, 
'Tis then I love to wander 

'Mid the hills and painted fields, 
Where pensive I may ponder 

The truths its ray reveals. 

Far softer than the sunlight 

. Upon a hazy day, 

When the first bright beam of morning 

Hastes to roll the mists away ; 
Far kindlier than the moonlight 

That dreams its life away 



LINES ON FEELING. lUi 

On the purple-tinted landscape 
That is wearied of the day : 

Far milder than the twilight 

Which guards the gate of ev'n, 
When the red orb seeks his rest, 

And glooms the vault of heaven ; 
Far gentler than the starlight 

That floods the darkened dome, 
Is this golden tide of feeling 

That calls the spirit home ! 

The soul — it often wanders 

From its own ethereal sphere. 
Life's truest wealth it squanders. 

Nor counts its blessings dear ; 
It sighs for other pleasures 

Than those true thought reveals; 
It seeks for other treasures 

Than those the spirit leels. 



102 POEMS. 

oil ! were it not for feeling, 

Heart might forever roam, 
No voice to guide it rightly, 

No hand to point it home ! 
This steals upon the spirit 

Ere the soul be well aware, 
In spite of each demerit 

It floats upon the air; 

It softens every feeling, 

It soothes each care to rest. 
And like a balm of healing 

Stills the tumults of the breast ! 
'Tis void of all impression. 

The soul could never give 
Its faintest tints expression, 

Or bid its glories live ! 

Thus, 
When the golden tide of feelino; 



LINES ON FEELING. 103 

Softly lulls the soul to rest, 
A truer phase revealing 

Of the world within the breast, 
'Tis then I love to wander 

'Mid the hills and painted fields, 
Where pensive I may ponder 

The truths its ray reveals ! 



104 POEMS. 



THE UNIVEESAL HEAET. 

No soul so dark, or sunk so low, 
But oft hath felt a nobler throe 
Than e'er hath won a poet's name 
Or twined the lasting crown of fame. 

The wreaths they wear — the illustrious few — 
They have derived from me and you; 
Our common nature rears the flower 
Their hands have plucked in kindlier hour. 

With taste and care they weave and twine 
The wreaths which should be yours and mine, 
Then wear in cold insanity 
The crown that's due humanity ! 

Tho' overflowing like the bowl 
Of generous wine, the poet's soul 



THE UNIVERSAL HEART. 1U5 

Is emptiness — inanity, 

To the thoughts which bow humanity. 

The universal heart shall beat 
With deepening pulses, still and deep, 
Tho' ne'er a dream that floods its mind 
May spiritual expression find. 

Its thoughts are deeper than the earth ; 
Thou, God, alone canst give them birth ; 
Toward thee alone still swells the tide 
Engulfing all the world beside. 



10 



106 POEMS. 

HYMN TO THE CATHOLIC CHUECH. 

IN THE SPIRIT OF A CONVERT. 

Had I but known tliee, Church of God, 

Amid my boyish years, 
I had not bowed beneath the rod 

Of servile hopes and fears : 
Childish disciple at thy feet, 

I should have caught thine accents sweet 
Nor wandered far from righteousness; 

Thou Spouse of Christ, our Saviour mild, 

Hadst hushed to calm the passions wild 
Which rob me of my bliss ! 

Now that the midnight surges raise 

Their clamor to the sky, 
Can Reason safely thread the maze 

Of strife and anarchy ? 



HYMN TO THE CATHOLIC CHUECH. 107 

Alas ! fair Reason's gaze is blind; 

No other refuge may we find 

Save tliee, thou Church — thou ark of God ! 

Hope as a rainbow gilds the storm; 

Fixed faith defends those hearts from harm 
Whose trust is in his word ! 

I know that o'er the mountain's brow 

Thy chariot-wheels are heard ! 
I know the grieved and sorrowing now 

Are blessed within thy word ! 
To Thee I come, Saviour mild, 
A simple, trusting, tearful child — 
Usher my spirit to thy rest ; 

lead me to thy Spouse on Earth ; 

bless me with the second birth 
Low hushed upon thy breast ! 

Thou Spirit, point me to the path 
Of peace without alloy; 



108 POEMS. 

Ye holy martyrs shield from wratli 

A heart without a joy; 
Be thine, sweet mother of my Lord, 
The prayer which wins me to my God 
And seals my soul from misery; 

A wretch, betrayed without, within. 
Sorely estranged by care and sin. 
Dares raise his voice to Thee ! 



SONNET. 109 

SONNET ON CHATTERTON. 

Already time has brought about the year, 
Wherein I number days as fair and round 
As those that youthful Chatterton have bound, 
And ushered to death's gloom on boyhood's bier! 
Would that my burning heart-throes were as 

dear 
To man's warm pulse as his ! That the sweet 

sound 
Which speaks his praises, and }X)ints out the 

mound 

Where genius lies, might lover-like be near 

My sad remains ! Oh ! I would willingly 

Be wrapped in slumber 'neath some flowery sod, 

There to be hid, and there unconscious lie. 

Till the dread trump should summon me to God, 

Could that but win the love for which I burn, 

And link my name to such as may not die ! 
1 0-- 



110 roEMS. 



DETERMINATION. 

I DWELL in a whirl of ideas ! 

My fiery thoughts are the trampling steeds 

That wing their way to the spheres ! 

Tramp ! tramp ! tramp ! 

How they beat the air with the burning hoof, 

Rearing aloft, and rearing aloof, 

Whilst my heart throbs wild with its fears ! 

Tramp! tramp! tramp! 

With the aery step of Pegasus, 

Storming the pass to Parnassus ! 

In the fair morning dream of life, 

The spirit wakens to inborn strength. 

Gallantly arming for strife ! 

Strife ! strife ! strife ! 

Till Nature succumbs to the sturdy stroke 

And her spirit-charms and chains are broke, 



DETERMINATION. Ill 

Which else would have bound us for life ! 

Strife ! strife ! strife ! 

With iron will and a constant aim : 

Thus each spirit should dare a great fame ! 



112 POEMS. 

THE HERMIT. 

In a laud of clustering rosevS, tinged with 

many a lively hue, 
Where merry Sunshine braids her hair, and 

bares her breast to view; 
In a land of lightsome echoes, sweeping wildly 

o'er the lyre 
Soft Music hangs within the groves to wake 

and soothe desire, 
Lived and died a lonely hermit, mild of eye 

and pure of heart — 
For in shunning of the world's embrace he 

chose the nobler part — 
When that Honor weaved a chaplet of fair 

hopes to grace his brow. 
He had fled from earthly grandeur, binding 

on his soul, a vow. 
With a spirit wed to Nature, in bright youth 

his soul had loved 



THE HERMIT. 113 

Each living thing that breathed the air — each 
creeping thing that moved, 

For his eye — it drank the glory of the amber- 
tinted sky, 

And to his heart the wild winds spake that 
listless wandered by ; 

God had lulled him in the poet's dream, and 
with a poet's tongue 

He pictured Earth as first she smiled, her 
pristine beauty sung ; 

He could paint the burnished mountains glow- 
ing in the evening's ray. 

And o'er the blushing landscape make the 
rosy cloudlets stray. 

When twilight-voices whisper, singing lullaby 
to Mirth, 

And heavenly calm falls with the dew that 
glist'ning veils the Earth ; 

When Morning swings her censer thro' the 
dreamy realms of air. 



114 POEMS. 

In lowliness of spirit, see him kneel and offer 

prayer : 
Thus mysteries are lightened, and his soul 

is lost in day, 
Whilst angel forms, with shining spears, 

thrust Darkness far away, 
The future — sweetly smiling on the present — 

points above 
To glorious clouds of witnesses which throng 

the throne of Love. 

MORAL. 

Thus in Age the heart is gladdened, and on 
angel-wings shall soar 

When scattered locks and feeble steps pro- 
claim the conflict o'er ; 

For the soul that shunneth evil in the early 
morn of Youth, 

E'en in Time shall view Eternity, and wear 
the crnwii of Truth ' 



SONG. 115 

SONG. 

Who loves not to gaze 

On the timid-eyed gazelle, 
As she wanders 'mid the maze 

Of the hills she loves so well ? 
By the crystal fount that flows 

Murmuring, murmuring 
Joy to the breezy groves, 

Answering, answering, 
Gaily she trips along, 
Keeping step to Nature's song ! 

But I love more to gaze 

Into woman's gentle eye. 
As her lashes soft are raised 

In rapture to the sky. 
For I feel, and I know 

There's more music in her soul. 
Than unseen choirs in wandering 

In spirit-measures roll ! 



116 POEMS. 

LINES TO MISS R. L. N. 

With a smile of sunshine, 
With an eye of laughter 
Driving on their merry dance 
Tripping sunbeams ; with a glance 
Such as sparkles warm with wine, 
Or the dream — hereafter : 

With a soul, displaying 

Treasuries of beauty 
Ever riveting the gaze ; 
Overflowing with the praise 
It would fain be saying 

In defence of duty : 

With the hope of heaven 
'Graven on thy spirit; — 

As thou art, we love thee, 

With the dreams which move thee. 

For to such is given 

More than worldly merit ! 



SONNET. ll' 



SONNET 

On the erection of Bartholomew' s Statue of 
Washington over the store of iV! W., of 
Baltimore, January 23(i, 1859. 

Who would have thought it, mighty "Wash- 
ington, 
That form as sacred to each heart as thine, 
Tho' lifeless marble, e'er would be a sign 
To marshal in "the trade?" And Thou! 

Great Son ! 
America's lost Joy — whose race has run — 
Thrice mourned Bartholomew ! Had'st Thou 

forseen 
This horrid sacrilege of things divine. 
The cold, cold lips of stone had wreathed 
their scorn 
11 



118 POEMS. 

'Neath thy creating hand ! Then thou, in 

tears 
Repentant, streaming in a hallowed flood 
Adown thy careworn cheeks, had poured thy 

blood 
Christening Earth, rather than future years, 
Pure guardians of thy miracles and name, 
Should scar thy scutcheon with a soiled fame ! 



SONNET. 119 



SONNET. 

To Mrs. Fanny Kenihle, upon hearing her 
read Macbeth, December 20, 1858. 

Inimitable actress of tlie soul, 
The languages of Reason and the Heart, 
Woven adroitly in each subtle part, 
When thou art reading, on the senses roll ! 
That voice alone could well express the whole 
Had not thine eye its meanings to impart ! 
Now hushed to calm we sit, and now we start ! 
Each will dethroned, yields its weak control 
Over passionate desires unto thee, 
That thou mayest train them in obedience 
To fickle government, till they shall see 
Vain opposition ends in impotence. 
Without a show of reason or of sense. 
While to submit is truly to be free ! 



120 POEMS. 



LINES 



My heart expanded like a flower 

Too early blown, 
Unclierished by mild April-shower, 

Or rearino; sun. 

Where it lies withered, others wave 

In crimson dress; 
Their leaves the dripping night-dews lave — 

Soft winds caress. 

What tho' they dance and sing aloud — 

All, all must die ! 
The sparkling dew shall glide, a shroud 

From noiseless sky. 

The summer drops which sank in showers. 
Soon wintrv frost. 



LINES. 121 

With biting tongue will nip the flowers, 
Their beauty lost. 

Thus hearts awaken at a sigh 

To thrills of love, 
And by that glance are doomed to die, 

In which they throve ! 

Where, where on earth, poor fleeting one. 

Can longing find — 
Or lingers there beneath yon sun — 

A steadfast mind ? 

Say — is love's ecstasy a balm, 

And to be given 
That heart alone, which spirit-calm 

Unfolds in heaven ? 

Alas ! that God's discerning lot 
Should call so few, 
11* 



122 POEMS. 

And myriad souls should die for what 
They never knew ! 

My heart, clasp thou the Infinite ! 

Thy treasure find 
Thro' approbation in his sight — 

The purest kind ! 

Earth's jewels flash the gaudy ray, 

An hour's joy ; 
The diamond's lustre wells from clay, 

A base alloy. 

Seek thou for truths immutable 
As God's own throne ; 

Feel thou that joys of spirit well 
From God alone. 



TO LILI DURING HER ABSENCE. 123 



TO LILI DURING HER ABSENCE. 

The beautiful, tliey pine for tliee 

When thou art far away, 
They yearn to bask in thy sweet smile. 

They whisper, " dinna stay !" 

The flowerets — the rivulets — 
The glades and sunny meads, 

Are languishing for thy sweet smile — 
The passion flower bleeds. 

The stars in silence guard the night 
And mark each fleeting hour. 

The sun reels darkling on his flight — 
The threatening dun clouds lower. 

Each heart which loves the beautiful, 
Now thou art far away. 



124 POEMS. 

Shall throb in holy unison — 
" Ah, Lili ! dinna stay !" 

Ah ! could'st thou hear the earnest prayer 
All Nature breathes for thee, 

A joyous tear — a maiden's tear 
Would tremble in thine e'e, 

'Twould wound thy tender soul to think 

That thou wast far away ; 
Thou would 'st not have it in thine heart. 

To make a longer stay. 

There is a heart — a poor lone heart — 
It bleeds each lengthened day, 

'Tis lost within the beautiful — 
It whispers, " dinna stay !" 

It looks to thee— it beats for thee, 
Thou measurest every stroke. 



TO LILI DURING HER ABSENCE. 125 

Thou art its pulse, and shall be so 
Until each chord be broke. 

Thou art its dream — its heaven-born dream ; 

Thou art its every sigh ; 
Thou art the spirit of the thrill 

When none save God is nigh. 

Thou art the fervor of its power ; 

Thou art its quiet calm; 
Thou art the tumult of its throes ; 

Thou art its holiest balm : 

And still it mourns, and still it sighs 

That thou art far away; 
Each warm pulse notes the fleeting hour 

And whispers, " dinna stay!" 

The beautiful, they yearn for thee ; 
They pine to view thy grace ; 



126 POEMS. 

They're languishing for thy sweet smile — 
They long to see thy face : 

And thus they swell the saddening plaint, 

" Ah, Lili, dinna stay ! 
The true — the pure — they canna thrive 

When thou art far away !" 



LINES TO MISS S. W. 12i 



LINES TO MISS S. W- 



CouLD gentle thoughts, and modest worth, 

Win crowns and diadems of earth. 

The fairest and the most serene 

Should bind thy brow, mild Nature's Queen. 

In haughty state, let Fashion wear 
Rich clustering jewels in her hair, 
No mine of Ind could e'er impart 
A joy like to thy joy of heart. 

As when the silvery cloud at ev'n 
Is rather to be felt than seen, 
So lost within the amber sky 
That either claims the brilliancy; 



128 POEMS. 

The thrills which thou awak'st in me, 
Tho' warm with life, are lost in thee, 
Till each dear rapture makes me feel 
How every dream I have, I steal! 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 129 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 

'Tis twilight's quiet, and the far oif sky 

Is softly pencilled of amber hue, 

As tho' an artist had employed his skill 

In shade and sunlight thro' refraction's 

power ; 
Proving that Nature needeth not the shroud 
Of darkness edged with gold, in the black 

woof 
Which ofttimes veils the smiling face of 

heaven — 
Thinking to add new grandeur to a scene 
Eesplendent with mild graduated shades 
Of high wrought coloring, and well thrown 

light ! 

Let the eye glance in strictest scrutiny 
From west to north, and thence unto the east 

12 



130 POEMS. 

Until it sweep the whole horizon's rim, 
And rests its wearied ray, where in the south 
A silver clasp weds joyous Earth to Heaven, 
And not a single covert can be found, 
Wherein the bright idea, speaking to man 
In colors tremulous, and deathless tints. 
From every quarter of the firmament, 
Could well conceal its radiance from the o;aze. 

And yet, behold ! Tliere is a little cloud, — 
Not larger than a hand, — of crescent shape, — 
With edges wavy and irregular, 
Of which the body is so shadowy 
That the bold eye can pierce midway the veil 
Which robs it of a single span of blue ! 
It seems as tho' God's providence directs 
Its every motion through the azure vault. 
So slowly floats it, that the doubt might rise 
Whether it move at all, save that the thought 
Of Nature's ministry in use of things — 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 131 

Prime law, immutable, ordained of God — 
Gives life and action to minutest forms. 

Reclined beside a stream of musical voice, 
Carving a loved one's name upon tlie bark 
Of the sad cypress tree — as tho' that name 
Were wed to sadness, and a spirit, warmed 
With deepest fervor, and wild rhapsody 
Of love unchangeable that outlives life — 
Entwined within the free strings of the heart — 
Whose lyre is swept alone of passion's hand — 
Most like en woven harmony of verse, 
And Music's deeper soul of untaught strains— • 
And lost in musing on this very point 
Of God's eternal providence, displayed 
In agency and use of Nature's power 
Innate, and self-applied, I often glance 
Upward with calm delight, to note the change 
That, shadowlike, steals o'er the face of 
things — 



132 POEMS. 

A spirit-veil — enhancing loveliness 
Thro' the mild softening of sky-scenery. 

But see ! the sky alone receives not all 
The mild reflection; for the little cloud 
Which heretofore seemed uselessly to rob 
The roving vision of its form of blue, 
Receives one trembling ray upon its breast, 
Softening, and softening thro' diffusive power, 
Until it greets the glad eye with a smile 
Like to the waving amber-shafted wheat 
Ripe unto the sickle, when that a storm 
Bathes the warm brow of Earth, in passing 

showers 
Of cooling rain, and sunlight plays between. 
Wild gambols with the streams, and woods, 

and flowers ! 
Already, as tho' conscious of the power 
Of adding grace, and elegance, and ease, 
To Nature's mild repose from weariness — 



THE LITTLE CLOUD. 133 

Now that the mantling shades invite to rest — 
It grows in beauty like a flower in bloom ! 
The little cloud has changed into the moon, 
And that which hid a single span of blue, 
Now lights, irradiates, and chastens all ! 

Hail ! Queen of Night ! and mistress of my 

heart ! 
Thy smile is like the ray of inward peace 
Lighting the deep recesses of a soul 
Lost far within the beautiful — and God ! 



12* 



134 POEMS. 



LINES TO MISS G. C- 



YouTH weaves a crown for later years, 
Of glowing hopes, and pallid fears. 

Then pines to see 
The opening blush of many a flower. 
Which closed, awaits the full-blown hour 

To burst it free. 

Alas ! tho' many bloom full fair, 
Yielding sweet incense to the air, 

Some few I ween 
Are paled by stern reality — 
The sorrows of humanity 

Too often seen. 

The crown thus varied, binds the brow 
Of all who know or love us now ; 
'Tis but too true 



LINES TO MISS G. C. 135 

Fond Hope can never bloom alone ! 
Pale — marble-pale — as carved from stone 
Springs Sorrow too ! 

Twin sisters dear ! I would not part 
That sisterhood, or ease the heart 

Of one sad care ; 
This, bids Earth's brightest colors shine ! 
That, whispers softly, " Heaven is thine — 

Hence ! dark Despair !" 

Oh, may thy youthful spirit weave 

A crown, whose radiance mild may leave 

No shade behind — 
Chaplet of innocence and worth, 
The rainbow clasp of Heaven and Earth — 

A tranquil mind ! 



136 roEMS. 



SONNETS TO CONSTANCE. 

I. 

For three long weeks I've pined to see thee, 

Constance ! * 
Now that fond hope must yield unto despair, 
I have bethought me of my God and prayer. 
And penned these lines, alas ! a vain remon- 
strance ! 
What pleasure canst thou find in such a dance 
As thou hast led me ? Lovers and loved ones 

stare 
Wonderingly on thee ! First, thy beauty rare 
Eivets each joy-sick sense, turning the glance 
Of thousands upon one : which thou repayest 
By all the myriad pretty things thou sayest 
With every speaking feature ! Then they ask 
Inquiringly about thee, and a heart 



SONNETS TO CONSTANCE. 13" 

As yet unmoved save by the forms of Art, 
iVnd who aspire within thy smile to basic ; 



II. 

Whilst I, forsaken of my own sweet hope, 
Must 'minister the short-lived joy to such, 
As seeing thee, already love too much ! 
Feebly essaying with a god to cope, 
Smitten with blindness, how they reel and 

grope 
Feeling for light ! And if perchance they 

touch 
One chord of sympathy or feeling in thee, 
Awakening a rapture in that breast 
Which heretofore lay slumbering, oh ! how 

blest 
The ecstasy which thrills them, henceforth 

free ! 



138 POEMS. 

But should thy gentler thought be veiled 

from them — 
And they may fail to read thy soul aright — 
No soothing voice of Music, no fair dream 
Of what might be, can heal the heart's sad 

blight ! 



LINES. 139 



LINES. 

IN THE SPIRIT OF UNIVERSALISM. 

When racked upon the bed of pain 

Delirious thought would scan, 
Visions, that ne'er might rise again. 

Of life in Nature — man ; 
No fear of dissolution fell 
Upon the soul ; no dread of hell 

Could blear those phantasies of mind ! 
Where'er the active spirit soared, 
Tho' lightnings flashed, and thunders roared, 

'Twas peace for human kind ! 

Thanks, glorious Being! for the them'b 

Which thus engaged my song; 
Great God ! and was it all a dream — 

And is Thy teaching wrong ! 



140 POEMS. 

Ye happy few who hold the truth 
Impressed upon the soul in youth 

By laughing meads of Earth and sky, 
Go ! In your joy spread far and wide 
That misery Soul shall ne'er betide, 

Nor anguish wake her sigh ! 

Fair Nature wields no threatening rod 

About our lowly head ; 
Each roseate blush — a prayer to God — 

Still bids us love — not dread! 
No pang attends the violet's death, 
Into the air she yields her breath 

The mildest effluence of the hour ; 
And while these emblems prove his care 
Embracing ocean, earth, and air. 

Creation speaks his power ! 

Great God ! how do I see and promise 
Each wondrous act above ! 



LINES. 141 

A Prince art Thou in all thy ways — 

A fount of guileless love ! 
Nor faithless I — but faithless they 
Who would thy character bewray. 

And stamp thy work an infamy ! — 
These dastard hearts, which ceaseless break 
Thy h\ws, shall of those mercies take 

They would deny to me ! 



i;j 



142 POEMS. 



LINES 



Fair Lili's heart's the tent of Love, 
With threads of feeling interwove ; 

Joy's laughing fountain wells within — 
Oh ! who would not the curtains move ! 

Steal gently — the rich damask draw — 
And thus my hold assertion prove ! 

How fortunate, whoe'er may view- 
There pillowed, a rosy Love ! 

Could others see what I have seen 

Oh ! who Avould not my choice approve ! 



TO AMORET. 143 



TO AMORET. 

In burning verse, or learning's lore, 
Could I but meet as mild a thought 
As thy sweet smile from Nature caught, 

'T would fill my heart — I'd need no more ! 

But having once on Beauty gazed 
The soul would loiter at her shrine; 
Yet, now thy love may ne'er be mine 

I must confess the siege is raised ! 

Since prayer is wind, and useless sighs 
But wake a tumult hard to bear, 
I will no longer sit and stare, 

Or drown my soul in thy deep eyes ! 

I'll say I ne'er did love their light ; 
Tho' I have pined the livelong day 



144 POEMS, 

- To catch the shadow of a ray 

Which round them ran its circlets bright ! 

And when their sunlets flashed but scorn, 
I've bowed my soul in humbleness, 
"Which witnessed the heart's distress 

That e'er such hapless wight were born! 

But when in liquid tenderness 

Their rays might pour a flood of grace — 
E'en hallowing another's face — 

Oh ! I could scarce my joy repress ! 

My soul is like the swelling tide — 
The heavy— restless — surging sea ; 
The moon's full glories like to thee, 

Which peacefully its billows ride ! 

I toss with longings like the sea ; 
But never may the surges rise 
To wed that glory of the skies — 

So I may never wed with thee ! 



THE DEAD. 145 



THE DEAD. 

Sweet is thy liquid voice, bell, 
To the dead ! 

Soothing the air on whose pinions it floats 
Far, far away, — 
Thro' the realms of day, — 

As the sunbeam dances, jeweled with motes ; 

Sweetest and wildest of melodies 

To the dead ! To the dead ! 

And fair thy flower-wreathed brow, Earth ! 

To the dead ! 
Low hushed is the pulse to list to the toll 

Of spirit-bells. 

With whose laughter, wells 
Mild Mu.sic's earnest and tearful soul ; 



146 POEMS. 

Waking her harmonies morning and eve, 
For the dead ! For the dead ! 

Deepest and purest of Earth, is the dream 

Of the dead ! 
O'er life's dull languor it floats like a crown 

Star-'cintured, and gleaming 

AVitli radiance; seeming 
To sink with the shadowy air, gliding down 
From regions of spirit, an angel-crown 
From the dead ! From the dead ! 



LINES. 147 

LINES 

COMPOSED AFTER AN ILLNESS. 

Into the world unknown, 

By mad delirium thrown 
'Mid changing states, and loftier flights of 
brain, 

Entranced, how Being reeled! 

Life's conscious fount unsealed, 
Kenewed in mind the fear of deepening pain : 
Then — not till then — could Truth assert her 

sway 
O'er dreaming Will, which slept from day to 
V day ! 

Intensity of thought 
A drearier sense has wrought 
Of hourly anguish traced in lines of care ; 



148 POEMS. 

Life is not all a dream, 
As sluggish spirits deem, 
There's time for mirth — now death invites to 

prayer : 
My God ! restore pure childhood's trustful 

love ; 
Be Thou my guide where'er I erring rove ! 

Can man renew the heart ? 

Can sated sense impart 
Beauties primeval — ^joys of pristine source ? 

Thou, Saviour mild, alone, 

From sympathetic throne 
Canst re-create — derive a gain from loss; 
Inspire the trembling hope of pardoning grace ; 
The heart that loves, shall see Thee face to 
face ! 

Can hypocritic cant 
Supply a spii'it-want ? — 



LINES. 149 

Low in Earth's pageant let us bow the knee ! — 
What ! what if reason fail 
Whilst fiendish hosts prevail ? 

Let Will regenerate climb the heights to Thee ! 

Pressed heart to heart, Earth's favored sons 
repose, 

Reclaimed from sin, protected from their foes ! 

How can a soul unsaved, 

'Mid myriad hosts enslaved. 
Gain pure delights— ecstatic thrills of heaven ? 

A panacea yield 

For such as keep the field. 
May angels whisper — ''hark, their sin's for- 
given ! ' ' 
Immortals ! never weary of the strife ! 
To fail — is death ! To win — eternal life ! 



150 POEMS. 



LINES. 

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO OUR HOUSE OF 
REPRESENTATIVES. 

Ye gods ! To tliink that Jove allows such 
strife 

Of hearts and tongues, to mar poor human 
life! 

Such combinations of pretence and power; 

Such threatening clouds of nothingness to 
lower ! 

Was gift of gab but given us of God 

To prove that men, as well as logs, are bored? 

When monarchs tremble for their wide do- 
mains, 

And civil broils enhance war's grievous pains ; 

When rival squadrons flout the oppressed sea 

With flying streamers and artillery, 



LINES. 161 

And safety hangs upon the sure command 
Of those empowered to bid them flee, or stand ; 
Then, little instrument, thy voice is heard. 
For pending interests hang upon a word : 
Then God commands thee speak, for weal or 

woe ; — 
But this — is waginu; war without a foe ! 



't3^ 



Tell, mighty wag! Say, rattling clap-trap, 

say! 
What guides thy pendulum's mysterious 

sway ? 
Why works one word an hundred thousand 

fold 
More than ten times the number useless 

rolled ? 
The cause alone gives weight unto the wind— 
For words are nothing more than puffs of 

mind ! 



152 poi'iMs. 

Come ! !Sit and listen to this wild debate 
Of mingled nonsense — charity ? — and hate ! — 
How the eye sparkles when some dodge is 

found 
To gain the floor, and pour the useless sound; 
See the fat hand extended towards the roof — 
As tho' dumb Nature was not nonsense proof : — 
Whilst every eye is strained, and every ear, 
To catch the sentiment they like or fear; 
How men are swayed as tho' by clock-work's 

power 
Be thy revealment, thou future hour ! 
What ranting — tearing, of l)oth mind and 

head — 
Such wholesale butchery of whate'er was said 
Ere that the learned member gained the 

floor, 
Was never seen or ever heard before ! 
What sharp presentiment of coming strife — 



LINES. 153 

Of principles already formed, and rife 
Within the magic-weaving, muddling brain 

Of Mr. , who, getting floor again, 

Will perchance argue points just so, and so, — 
Amend the motion by a well aimed blow 
Of policy farsighted — straight aware 
That such a dodge will make opponents stare : 
Great Jove ! What would the heavenly coun- 
cils say, 
To hear, de facto, such men dare to pray ! 
And yet they beat and bang at heaven's door, 
E'en whilst misusing, praying hard for more ! 
Oh ! may they, Twist-like, stretch the empty 

bowl. 
Poor, brainless pates, mean starvelings of 
soul ! 



14 



154 POEMS. 

TO MISS N. S. 

I KNEW a timid child, 

A gentle, winning maiden ; 
No dreams her heart beguiled, 

Save such as sweetly laden 
With perfumes of the Heaven and Earth, 
Were symbols of her beauteous birth ! 

Where'er the wild Winds bend 

The crimson-tipp6d flowers, 
Thither her lone steps tend 

To while away the hours ; 

The beauties of her mind expand 

With every blush that paints the land ! 

The glories which surround 

Her form, are varied beauties; 
An union here is found. 



TO MISS N. S. 155 

Of pleasing traits and duties — 
Deep sympathies with human kind, 
Of heart and hand, of soul and mind! 

Light, shadow-like, attends 

Her steps where'er they wander; 

The star of evening bends 
Her loveliness to ponder, 

Hoping at some far distant day 

Its orl) may yield as mild a ray ! 



156 POEMS. 



THE DEATH BED. 

A young man being desperately ill, and acquainted 
with his near dissolution, requested a young lady to be 
sent for; they were friends, nothing more. On the ap- 
proach of death, he asked her to kiss him, with which 
request the lovely young girl complied. The following 
lines are respectfully dedicated to one in every way an 
honor to her sex. 

Blessed be the heart, 

A¥hich forth from out its urn of feeling, poured 

A bright and genial flood 

To cool that fevered brow ! 

Cheering the gloom, 

Gathering in darkness o'er a wintry sky. 
When nameless dread drew nigh — 
An angel-form she stood ! 



THE DEATH BED. lo7 

When from thin li[)S, 

Pallid, and bloodless as the sifted snow, 

The soul's wild longings flow, 

They plead — nor plead in vain ! 

Those earnest orljs 

Soon to be closed in an eternal night, 

Tho' paling now their light, 

A faint thanksgiving yield ! 

The poet's theme ! 

May she survive to grace the willing song, 
Its warmest sigh prolong. 
Heart-burdened with her praise ! 



14* 



158 POEMS. 

NATURE'S VOICE. 

How musical the voice that wakes the dells 
At early morn, ere that the merry hounds, 
And jocund train which wait Aurora's blush, 
Bouse slumbering Echo from her placid rest. 
And envious sun-beams ramble thro' the 

meads. 
Sipping the pendent orbs of purest light 
All trembling with love-zeal — courting the 

glance 
Which drains them of their beauty, and their 

Being ! 
'Tis hard to think it of a world so vast, 
Yet truth still calls for truth ; the great round 

Sun — 
The eye of God — most beautifully bright, 
Which meets no rival in his lordly path 



nature's voice. 159 

And drinks the timid starlight at a draught — 
Which, all the livelong night, with silvery 

veil 
Woven of fairy sprites on Nature's loom. 
Conceals betrothed Earth from lawless gaze — 
Is moved to jealousy by drops of light 
That grace and bathe her brow : lest her fond 

heart 
That ever loved the fair and beautiful, 
Be won of delicacy more than power 1 

Let envy cease ! Cease vain solicitude ! 
She prides her that her heart of hearts is 

thine ; 
And, lest she lose thy soul-inspiring glance, 
She throws aside the drapery of the hour 
With which she tawdily bedecked herself. 
To while away the " lazy -pacing" points 
Called seconds in the reckonina; of time, 



160 POEMS. 

Which go to join th' immeasurable past, 
And herald thy return ! It is her wish 
To meet thee, robed in pure simplicity. 
Winning thee to herself thro' natural charms, 
Such as first won thy mild approving gaze 
When the great God bequeathed her to thy 

care, 
And bade thee cherish her, till Death and Woe 
Should swallow up all forms which dream of 

life, 
And Chaos once again ascend his throne 
Of ebon darkness, 'mid the crash of sphere 
Hurled against sphere, reeling to accomplish 
A direful fate and final destiny. 
Thou wouldst not rob her of the modest 

flowers 
For them thou gavest her ; and as thy gift 
She prizes them beyond the crystal dew 
That she dispenses with at thy approach ; 



nature's voice. IGl 

And when thou comest thro' the eastern gate, 
She welcomes thee in silence, and with smiles 
That are reflections of thine own sweet gaze ! 
The drowsy air, aroused from listlessness — 
Her swift-soled messenger — she sends to thee, 
Deep-laden with the perfume of the flowers 
"Which cluster round her palpitating heart ! 
And she would fain breathe forth a prayer to 

thee, 
Piercing the dark-ribbed clouds, which inter- 
cept 
The golden shower of thy laughing beams. 
Were not her mild voice hushed in man's sad 
fall ! 

God, in creating, smiled upon his work. 
And forthwith Earth possessed of conscious- 
ness — 
For in the smile of God dwells Life, whilst 
Death 



162 POEMS. 

Swift-pinioned, drops attendant on his frown — 
Preferred a prayer to Him for reason high, 
Wed to a voice well trained in utterance 
Of burning thought, and spirit-ecstasies : 
He, answering hope by its accomplishment, 
Gave infant man unto her nursing arms, 
And bade her train him in true utterance 
Of mysteries ; thus she would be relieved 
Of untold fires which waste her dreamy breast. 
Him thus she would have reared, and oft she 

strove 
To win him to herself, swaying his heart 
Thro' the eternal union of soft love 
With whatsoe'er is beautiful to mind ; 
Thus, by allurements, did she hope to 

guide 
His fickle intellect to sterner laws 
Of Being absolute — dependent forms : 
Striving to raise a question in his thoughts 
Of how the creature springs to life and sense 



nature's voice. 103 

From the mere fiat of creative Will. 
But lie as oft took cognizance of sense, 
O'erlooked the grandeur of eternal truths, 
In mild reflections on the fires, which flare 
Like lamps, beneath the wind-swept canopy 
Of heaven's emblazoned roof; the moon — the 

stars, 
Entranced his eyes by night — his Soul by 

day, 
Lighting the world of mind with spirit-rays ! 

Yea, often, too, when wandering thro' the 

glades. 
Young buds in coyness raised their lowly 

heads, 
Blushing in maiden modesty, to win 
His manly gaze ; and then have drooped for 

shame, 
That tints as gentle and as mild as theirs 



164 roEMS. 

Ne'er won remark, e'en in liis kindlier hours ! 
Alas ! that it is so ! Had man but known 
What eloquence there slumbered, unex- 
pressed, 
Dependent on his rhapsodies of mind 
Fair Earth could well inspire, but not direct ; 
His whole attention, concentrated where 
The noblest principles can be evolved 
By stern reflection, soon would have disclosed 
The hidden glories of both mind and form ; 
Such joyful symphony from thence had 

sprung. 
His foster mother ne'er had mourned a voice 
As musical as that which guides the spheres, 
Thro' all the mazes of the giddy dance 
Sweeping the vast infinitude of space ! 



BALLAD. l().n 



BALLAD. 



With lily-white hand on her bosom of snow 
To musical symphonies moving, as though 

Soft playing the strings of her heart, 
Sits Maggie ! Sky glitters above, whilst 

below, 
Earth, floating in charms that mellifluous flow 
From sympathy's spring, hangs bathed in the 
glow 
Fair Nature alone may impart. 

Her eye were too warm, save to mellow its 
ray- 
Like pencil of evening subduing the day — 
The spirit that thrills in her breast, 
Drains inward the stream of the light, which 
denied 

15 



166 POEMS. 

The throng of her lovers, is poured in a tide 
Of dazzling soul-beams, disarming the pride 
Of strangers, and foes to her rest. 

Ah ! many have drooped for a glance of her 
eye; 

And many, sore wounded, have left — with a 
sigh — 
Fair Maggie, when waking her heart : 

That glance is to slay — that lily-white hand 

None clasp save in friendship, for such her 
command : 

Tho' suitors have offered what few can with- 
stand, 
Love-baffled is love's every dart. 

Far away ! Far away ! in the clime of the South 
Where bright stars sprinkle rays on the gor- 
geous Earth 
And songs ever gladden the hour, 



BALLAD. 1G7 

Roams the youtli of her choice : that youth, 

who alone — 
Far away tho' he be — can awaken the tone 
Of affection, soft welling from lyre of stone, 
As incense exhales from a flower. 



168 • roEMs. 



TO THE EXILES OF ITALY. 

Exiles from a bleeding land — 
Welcome ! Welcome ! 
Tho' no jostling crowds be nigh 
When the bright keels kiss the strand, 
Myriad-hosts should raise the cry : 
"Welcome ! Welcome !" 
Waving flags of liberty — 
Shouting — " Hail the victor-l)and ! 
Welcome ! Welcome !" 

Have ye failed, ye steadfast few ? 
Never ! Never ! 
Ne'er a blow is struck in vain ! 
Once our fathers bled like you ! 
Life-drops rust oppression's chain 
Ever ! Ever ! 



TO THE EXILES OF ITALY. 169 

Gallant hearts will share your pain ! 
Tyrants shall this welcome rue, 
Ever ! Ever ! 

God bless bleeding Italy 
Ever ! Ever ! 
When we grasp her fevered hand, 
Nations ! hearken to her sigh ! 
Noble souls! our homes command 
Ever ! Ever ! 
Can we an appeal withstand 
In behalf of liberty ? 

Never ! Never ! 



15* 



1711 POEMS. 

LINES ON UNFOETUNATE LOVE. 

I loved too young ! 
My eyes revealed my pain — 
Alas ! alas ! in vain — 

Before my tongue ! 

Still shall they rove! 
My heart by impulse swayed, 
Ne'er, ne'er shall be allayed, 

Save thro' sweet love ! 

Deepens my thought ! 
Confined within a breast 
That knows no joy nor rest, 

Tho' hourly sought ! 

Could beauty ease, 
Here are an hundred eyes 



LINES ON UNFORTUNATE LOVE. 171 

That sprinkle love with sighs, 
Whispering — '' Cease, 

" Cease wandering free ! 
Where spirit- waters gush, 
There let weak'ning passion hush 

Its boisterous sea !" 

When laid in calm, 
May Will her vigils keep 
O'er demons, lulled to sleep 

In slumber's balm! 

Health's rosy glow 
Upon a dimpled cheek — 
Is 't this which thou dost seek 

My soul ? Ah, no ! 

A kindred heart ? 
Yes! yes! I mark it well, 



172 POEMS 

For thee, there is a hell 
Deep-hewn, apart ! 

Others can choose 
A brighter, lovelier dream, 
And in another's theme 

Their sorrows lose ! 

Sad is his fate, 
Whom loving maids despise ! 
Who wakens tears with sighs 

To win Lut hate ! 



LINES ON GENIUS. 173 



LINES ON GENIUS. 

DEDICATED TO DR. C. J. 

How thankful he should be, 

Whoe'er hath chanced to see 
A genius rear the god within his breast ; 

Who viewed the raging fire 

Of uncontrolled desire 
To act high deeds, invade a spirit-rest ! 

When by a great thought tossed, 

All consciousness is lost 
Of sun, and moon, and stars — of death and life, 

Rapt fairy-realms of soul 

His every sense control, 
Till wearied Will again renews the strife ; 
Who living, but would willingly give o'er 
Hls fairest dream, and with that spirit soar! 



174 POEMS. 

Spontaneous thrills of heart, 

Serenest thoughts impart, 
As sparkling crests ride waves of softest light; 

Reason supreme attends, 

And when commanded, bends. 
Moulding to beauty, forms which blind the 
sight.. 

Thus from the realms of nought, 

Mild shapes are hourly brought. 
Whilst varied raptures fair, enchant the view ; 

Mind riveted to mind. 

Heart's greatest wealth shall find. 
In probing Nature for the bright and true ! 
May genius, as its works, for aye endure, 
That man may cherish still, the chaste and 
pure ! 



TO AMORET. 175 



TO -AMORET. 



Say, lovely maiden, say ! 

Why flee the light ? 
Mild charms should woo the day ; 

Few are so bright : 
Cupid, in golden chains, 
Prays thee to ease his pains ! 

Dost yet in freedom hold 

Maidenly thought? 
Fear, lest that over bold, 

Thou mayest be brought — 
Proud tho' thou be — so low 
All may deride thy woe ! 

Hearts lost and won on Earth, 

Oft lose their power, 
Waked to a noliler birth 



] 76 POEMS. 

Love rules the hour; 
Fear, lest unknown to thee 
Thy heart may vanquished be ! 

Shouldst thou refuse my prayer — 

Still hear my sigh; 
When hope dissolves in air 

Sorrow is nigh ; 
Oh! soothe the galling pain, 
E'en whilst you forge the chain ! 

Waft back the dreams of youth — 

Recall the hour 
Light sighs were wed to truth 

Thro' Beauty's j^ower : 
Then, weave in, fair and free, 
Visions and dreams of thee ! 

Thus tho' my heart may mourn 

Laden with sorrow. 
New dreams shall bid me turn 



TO AMORET. IJ\ 

Hope to the morrow : 
E'en pain will rapture prove, 
When wed to those we love ! 



16 



178 POEMS. 



TO MIRIAM. 

I KNOW thee, lovely Miriam, wliat thou art — 
A cold, insensate form, without a heart ! 

The moon-beam loves to nestle in thy hair; 
The fainting Zephyrs whisper, thou art foir : — 

Yet Earth is all too warm a home for thee : 
Thou canst not feel the throbbing of the sea ! 

The delicate tendrils, as they branching twine 
Around the oak, suggest no love divine ! 

The joyous smile which lights the fields of air, 
Speaks not of God, nor whispers he is there ! 

When thro' thy lattice, laughing Morn would 

take 
A peep at thee, and thy soft slumbers break ; 



TO MIRIAM. 179 

Aurora blushes that she must behold 
Such breathless beauty cast in icy mould ! 

Oh ! learn to view the hand of God, endued 
With matchless power to work thee harm or 
good; 

A power displayed in myriad worlds, up hung 
In boundless space, fair on their centres 
swung ; 

A mind applied to form the insect's wing; 
A hand that mingles odors of the Spring ! 

And if thou wouldst a living joy impart, 
Pray God to gift thee with a human heart : 

Thus mayest thou learn, how love is holier still 
Than heartless beauty, paining by its thrill ! 



180 POEMS. 

AN ADDRESS TO MY IMPULSE. 

Wilt thou ne'er prove false to me 
Heart-awakened melody ? 
Tliro' the dim revolving years 
Thickly strewn with hopes and fears, 
Wilt thou still remain by me 
Heart-awakened melody ? 

Ah ! I feel, when youth is past. 
And the brow is overcast. 
Blackened with the blows of life 
Driven in amid the strife, 
Thou— with other friends — slialt ilee, 
Heart-awakened melody ! 
Yet, tho' then my soul shall bow, 
I will glory in thee now ! 

Tell me — if 'tis given to tell — 
Whence pure springs of rapture well ? 



AN ADDRESS TO MY IMPULSE. 181 

Mellows love in woman's voice, 

Or the gentle, rustling noise 

When the Zephyr longing breathes 

Thro' myriad-hosts of leaves ! 

Whisper of the purple West, 

And the landscapes crowned with rest ! 

Tell me — if 'tis given to tell 

Whence pure springs of rapture well — 

Why thou comest like a sigh 

Forced to wander listlessly ? 

Why thou dost to pleasure wake 

Hearts thou leavest soon to break ? 

Whether Love or Poesy 

Is the name most dear to thee ! 

I would know thee, what thou art. 

For I feel thou rul'st my heart ! 

Art thou Thought — or art thou Feelino;? 
Art thou but a ray, revealing 

16» 



1S2 POEMS, 

Hidden jewels of the mind, 

Thought without thee ne'er could find ? 

Art thou Intuition's self? 
Or a prank of that wild elf, 
Whispering to ingenuous souls : 
" Here the tide of treason rolls, 
Hidden deep in dastard breast, 
Which forever lost to rest. 
Hates to view the sacred peace 
Of another soul at ease !" 
Tell me, for thou rul'st my heart — 
I would know thee as thou art ? 

Tho' thou wert a misery — 
Tho' thou wert an open lie 
Given to this end — deceiving 
All who must go on believing, 
Whilst thou pourest out thy sigh 
On the spirit, seemingly 



AN ADDEESS TO MY IMPULSE. 183 

Urging to a noble end; 
Tho' I knew thee for a fiend — 
Yet my spirit loves thee so 
I'd thy every bidding do ! 

Is the culture of the heart 
Madness ? Dost thou e'er impart 
Glories of the soul, to those 
Who are idiots from repose ? 

Tell me ! Is this restlessness 
But the shadow of the bliss, 
Spirit-calm, and rest of heaven, 
To the sainted heroes given — 
Such as, 'mid the battle's din, 
Warred for God, and vanquished sin ? 

Yet, and if thou answerest not 
These, the questionings of heart, 
May thy sweet tones v/hisper me 
Thro' a love-eternitv ! 



184 roEMS. 



AMBITION. 

It is a sad, disheart'ning lot, 

To feel that other minds can soar 

To airy heights, which we dare not 
Attempt to clamber o'er ! 

That brethren and companions dear, 
Tho' bound to us by social ties, 

Will not by our suggestions steer 
Their courses for the skies ! 

Ambitious souls which feel the weight 
Of glory every mind can bear, 

Are even fain to underrate 
The genius that they fear ! 

When cured of envy's sting, the heart 
Is guided of pure love again, 

Time — time alone, will heal that smart 
AVhich pierces every vein ! 



AMBITION. 185 

Let eacli true man contentment find, 
In that he bears an image bright, 

Stamped lastingly wpon the mind, 
And traced in living light ! 

Great hearts are but weak tools within 
The iron grasp of Nature's Lord, 

And when reclaimed from pride and sin, 
Yield praise alone to God ! 



No honor claim they as their due; 

No thought original; no way 
Can they point out as sure and true. 

To lead men to the day ! 

Less honored souls should e'en rejoice 
That God can sometimes use frail man- 

A clarion to resound his voice — 
And tell us all He can ! 



^ 



186 POEMS. 

AMELIA. 

A FRAGMENT, 

The following lines are fragmentary — connected only 
by the Author's private knowledge of plan, and future 
development. Fearing lest his little book — from want 
of patronage — ^may be the only one he will be enabled to 
give to the world, he thinks it appropriate to publish in 
this crude form that, which at some future date may 
possibly take a more decided mould and character. 

Fair is the smile of the Earth, for Morning 
has sprinkled the sunshine 

Veiled in the globules of rain that noiselessly 
dripped from the heavens, 

Far over meadow and lea, bathing the land- 
scape in glory ! 

Long white peninsular clouds lose their caj^es 
in the still blue water 

Arched far above — a measureless sea — an 
ocean of laughter ! 



AMELIA. 1S7 

Fair is the smile of the Earth, tho' Evening 

had witnessed the gray mists 
Cover the deep-souled sky as the foam hangs 

over the billows, 
Mingling shadowy forms — scattering the 

spray of the snow-flakes 
Meltine; for love of the first warm kiss Earth 

gave them as greeting ! 
Warm is the smile of the Earth, but milder 

the glance of Amelia 
Plays o'er the fair-haired boy she leads by 

the hand to the cottage. 
Softly uplifting the latch which fastened the 

door of their dwelling, 
As tho' afraid of disturbing the rest which 

had fallen from heaven — 
Slumber of peace — on the tremulous limbs 

of her blind old father. 
Gently they pass thro' the door — the boy and 

the iTiaiden too*ether : 



1-88 POEMS. 

Nearer and nearer tliey glide towards the 

chair with the tread of a shadow, 
Kissing the floor of the room — their feet — 

with as noiseless a blessing. 
Wed to the sorrows of age, the music of 

youth's deathless longings 
'Wilders the old man's brain, — as the wind 

sweeps over the wind harp 
Swung midway from a branch of a tree 'twixt 

Earth and the Heavens — 
Mingling sighs for the past, with the sadden- 
ing tones of the present. 
They, seated near him in love, mark with 

pleasure the smile of the Spirit 
Smoothing the wrinkles of age, lightening the 

sternness of nature : 
When, as a new-born joy, it wanders, they 

whisper " he slumbers; 
Dreams of the dear old times — the dreams of 

his earliest childhood 



amj:lia. 189 

Come once again — an earnest of peace— a 

balm for his sorrow, 
Lifting the weight of his years, off from the 

spirit of Malthas !" 
Dreams of the dear old times — now he follows 

the bend of the river 
Winding its devious course thro' the meadow 

once owned of his father, 
Skirted with copse — a thick undergrowth of 

hazel and dogwood ; 
Listlessly wandering on, musing of Life and 

the Spirit, 
Losing his Soul in a thought so deep it swal- 
lows his Being ! 
Mindless of Earth and the sky, with the 

rippling flow of the waters — 
Mindless of mother and home, of sister, 

brother, and father- 
Winged of its joy, his Spirit has flown to the 

regions of dreamland ! 
17 



190 POEMS. 

There, of the gorgeous clouds, it rears a 

temple of glory- 
Piercing the dark blue vault : glisten the 

myriad spires 
Pale as the liorht of the moon, chano-ino; from 

amber to silver, 
Shifting their dazzling hues like the glittering 

mass of the iceberg 
Jewelled with stars, imprisoned within that 

casket of crystal, 
Flashing the pale white light of its radiance 

over the Ocean ! 

Sad would it be for the Earth were the visions 
of longing eternal ; 

Closed were her eyes to the measure of time, 
the glories of action. 

Soothed by the languishing tones ever whis- 
pering rest to the weary, — 



AMELIA. 191 

Lulled by tlic soft laugliiug flow of raptures, 

deliciously welling 
Free from the springs of tlie heart, weaving 

harmonious numbers, 
Winging their way to the regions above, a 

choir of languor. 
Up thro' the chasms of night, burdening air 

with their sweetness, — 
Closed were the ears of the Soul, to the loftier 

aims of her Being ! 

Just as a bird of the morn, when aroused by 
the blush of Aurora 

Springs from the grass on aerial wings, beat- 
ing music to nature. 

Stemming the currents of air, and rising 
hicchcr and hio;her 

Borne far aloft by the wandering gusts which 
buffet his pinions ; 



192 POEMS. 

Drinking the colorless light of the morning, 

and steadfastly gazing 
Being away, with love for his mate, and her 

delicate plumage ; — 
Yet, in his 'wildering course, a sense of his 

love, and her nurslings, 
Steals like a vision of future into a bosom of 

longing — 
Suddenly wheeling about, he beholds the 

stream, and the green sward. 
This, a mirror of sky reflecting the brighten- 
ing azure. 
That, an emerald mould, and glistening fresh 

with the dew drops, 
Laved with the same fair light he sought in 

the regions of cloudland : 
Swift as a glance of the Sun, he drops from 

the sky to the meadow — 
Thus, from the castles of air, falls to Earth 

the musimj-s of Malthus ! 



AMELIA. 193 

Turning his pale wan cheek to the stream of 
the light, which, denied him, 

Floated a gauze-like veil o'er the shadowy- 
Earth and the Heavens, 

Sweeping the land and the Sea with its deep- 
ening fringe as of amber, 

Trailed by the ministering cloud thro' the 
dust of the ground, and the white mists, 

Malthus awakes to the sense of his love, and 
the hope of his blindness ! 

Wakening thrills of delight in the breast of 

the youth and the maiden, 
Softy he calls to the boy and the girl with 

the voice of affection : 
" Come to the knees of my age, and ponder 

the words of your father ; 
Maltlius, the lilind old man, lias somotliing of 

interest to tell you : 



194 roEMS. 

Fly to the arms of my age, for I feel you are 

near to my lieart's love, — 
Ye ! ye ! alone remain to these arms from the 

forms they have cherished — 
Mother and father, with sister and wife — all ! 

all ! They have left me — 
Snatched from the loving embrace, and chilled 

by the breath of the death-fiend ! 
Daughter — with speed, — in the blush of your 

youth — I long to encircle 
Charms which shall draw forth the sigh from 

the languishing breasts of the young 

men, 
Youths all alive to the beauties of form in the 

future of Being, 
Warmed by the glance of an eye, and thrilled 

by the echoing soft laugh. 
Magical, musical — breathing of treasures re- 
served for the loved ones, 



AMELIA. 195 

Guarded with care by the critical eye of the 
cynical mother ! 

Such were the years in the past, and I doubt 

not such is the future ! 
Each age is but to show that the world, with 

its forms, shall continue ; 
Earth has her robe— the ocean his tides — the 

heart its emotions, 
Shifting and surging, and falling perchance, 

but in melody turning 
Back to the same old phase that delighted 

the hearts of the Fathers ! 

Soft is the glance of the Sky to a heart in the 

morning of Being, 
Fresh from the hands of the Lord, wakening 

hopes for the future — 
Mellow the hum of insect-wing in the trcrnblo 

of motion — 



196 POEMS. 

Golden the haze of the dust, deep-tinged with 

the pencil of sunlight ; 
Yet, in the end, 'tis the will of the Lord — an 

end never failing. 
Time drags heavily on, till the hope of the 

future, accomplished. 
Dies on the heart of the man, as the leaf on 

the heart of the forest ! 

As they return from the burial ground, the 

home of the friendless. 
See the clouds break up like the mass of ice 

that covers a river, 
Floating in huge-hewn blocks, whilst the still 

water darkens between them. 
Far thro' their cavernous depths behold you 

the long lost Ether ! 
Is it the eye of the Lord which brightens and 

gladdens the landscape ? 



AMELIA. 197 

Circles of blue look down with the })assionless 
love-gaze of childhood ! 

Far over meadow and lea the swift-flitting 

shadows are playing, 
Dancing a shadowy-dance — chasing the sun- 

liojlit before them. 
Now the Sun marshals his rays behind the 

dark thunder-cloud, loomins; 
Black w^ith impetuous fate, portending tem- 

j^sstuous ruin : 
Ever and anon from behind, peep the glitter- 
ing points of the spear-heads — 
Level their shafts — like the glance of an eye 

they haste to the Ijattle ! 
Heaven's artillery thunders its rage in the 

crash o'er the mountains ! 
God hurleth his spear in the lightning-dart 

that rendeth the pine trees, 



198 POEMS. 

Whilst that from chasm and peak, wild with 
fright, leap the heart-quelling echoes ! 



Sigheth the Wind of the West, in languish- 
ing numbers and accents : 

" I must away, to shepherd the clouds thro' 
the infinite void !" 

Like a heart-sigh, it wasteth its life in the 
useless endeavor 

By one fell swoop, to sweep from the sky its 
burden of sorrow ! 

Tho' they move, the dark clouds, tlio' they 
lessen and lessen, and fade in the dis- 
tance — 

Tho' they curl and divide, and in airy shapes 
lighten the landscape — 

The boundless horizon still fleeth and fleetli 
before them ; 



AMELIA. 190 

Thus the heart, tho' relieved, still nurseth its 
burden of anguish ! 

" Surely her face is divine, for a spirit-sweet- 
ness descending 

Swift from the musical spheres, in its joy has 
fallen upon her. 

Gladdening Earth with an angel-smile — a 
power of beauty 

"Winning the soul unto wisdom, and moving 
the hearts of beholders ! 

See where she gracefully glides, the perfect 
mould of a woman. 

Maidenly veiling her face — fearing the sun- 
light should kiss her ! 

Panting for bliss, the Wind of the West, 
with the hand of a lover 

Gently uptossed the deep-craped veil, disclos- 
ino- the features 



200 POEMS. 

Homer had sung, as they shone revealed in 

the light of his blindness ! 
For, when Nature is haze, and eyes formed 

of clay gather blackness, 
So that the Sun is an orb of gloom, and the 

tides of the sunbeams 
Play o'er the motionless balls upraised to their 

shower of darkness, 
Light wells free from the Soul, like a golden 

mist, which, dispersing. 
Gladdens the view with emeral'd meads, and 

vistas of azure 
Blending their various tints, to form a glori- 
ous union. 
Milder by far than the natural eye in its 

vision hath bounded ! 
Such are the landscapes of mind, and such 

the raptures eternal, — 
These are the forms Maeonides saw in peo- 
pling Elysium !" 



AMELIA. 201 

Thus sang tho youtli in his heart, and these 

are the words which he uttered, 
Praising the grace of Amelia, and blessing 

the turf which she trod on, 
Whispering low to his friend, " vera incessu 

patuit dea," — • 
Venus herself, the praise of the gods, the 

spouse of Hephaistos, 
Wandering free in the groves, and suddenly 

chancing upon her, 
Paused in the walk, in wonder to gaze on the 

grace of the maiden, — 
Staying the step which awakens a thrill in the 

souls of Immortals ! 

Is it the Air that is whispering thus, on the 

heart of the waters 
Sighing, and laughing, and sighing again, as 

they wander forever 

18 



202 POEMS. 

Homeless, companionless, rolling in melody 

over the smooth stones — 
Such as that shepherd of old had chosen to 

fight witih Goliath — 
Never to rest, ever losing their stream in the 

gorge of the mountains : 
Now reappearing again, and shaping its flight, 

for the Ocean, 
Eager, insatiate, longing to swallow Earth, 

Air, and the Heavens ; — 
Winging its way like a great white bird thro' 

the mists of the forest ! 

Is it the voice of the Wind, or the pulse of the 

sparkling streamlet 
Throbbing in sympathy wild to the call of the 

Sea in the distance, 
Murmuring — "Lo, I come!" Singing, "Soon 

and T shall ho with you." 



AMELIA. 203 

Lost ill your trotli-c;i])})ed waves, or spread 
as the foam on the lona; strand. 

Or as the wind-tossed spray, showering light 
on the head of the sailor, 

Crowning the slave of his own wild thought 
with the jewels of fi-eedom ] 



204 roEMs., 



SPEING. 

In the Spring ! In the Spring ! 

Earth blushing, renewed, 

In her glories renewed, 

Caresses her flowers ! 

They drooped 'neath the rage 

Of the pitiless Ijlast ; 

But the voice of the Wind, 

Of the low summer Wind 

In melody sighing: 

" Awake .'"—Whilst the Hours, 

Bedecking the bowers, 

Responded in soft winning accents : 

" Awake ! Loved of Heaven, awake ! 

Eemember the past," — 

Has raised Winter's siege ! 



SPUING. 2(J5 

In the Spring ! In tlio Spring ! 

Light thoughts sparkle up, 

Leap up, — bubble up 

From the wells of the heart I 

They hang in their lightness 

O'er the glass of the stream ; 

In their rising and falling, 

Wakened Memories are calling 

To Memories dead — • 

" Awake joys of heart ! 

To rha|)sody start ! 

Earth and Heaven are whispering ever : 

Awake ! Sleep no more !" 

Then melt as a dream 

That is veiled of its In'io'htness ! 



18' 



•200 roEMS. 



ONE'S OWN DAYDREAM. 

In the wanderings of Spirit 
Isles of beauty, undiscovered 
Heretofore by kindred natures, 
Greet the eye : 

Clad in robe of waving velvet, 
'Chased with violets and roses, 
How such tenderilesses make us 
Heave the sigh ! 

Other dream may be for other. 
Fair and beautiful as ours — 
Sunny lake, and laughing shower ; 

AVaves of light 
Oft in silence lave the long strand 
Pvuby-red with rolling jewels. 



one'8 own daydream. 207 

Flashing as the giddy moon-heani 
Reels thro' night ! 

Other dream may be for other, — 
Dream as beautiful as ours — 
Losing rhapsody in langour 
Of the soul; 

Yet each Spirit loves its own dream, 
Calmly moulding its ideal 
Pulseless, where the tides of glory 
Ceaseless roll ! 

Is it that discerning Fancy 
Marshals up from heart remembrance 
Forms of Being, which to move us 

Crowd each scene, 
Thick with wild youth's deathless longings! — 
Lost to Spirit, save that visions 
Waked of memory 'mid Earth's trials, 

Litervene ! — 



208 



POEMS. 



As the dewy cloud of Evening- 
Hangs, a rapture, lightly curling 
Into tint and smiling notice — 
So with thought ! 

Would that Soul could dwell forever 
'Mid the gay creation floating. 
Wafted on mild Music's pinions 
Throuo-h the heart ! 



THE END. 



irr: 



i^:' J.r,, 18(111. 






